Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl
by Meester Lee
Summary: The magical education of Daria Morgendorffer, daughter of Sirius Black, first in Texas then at her first year at Hogwarts
1. Chapter 1

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter One: A New Year

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. I own neither franchise, nor do I expect or deserve any financial compensation for this work of fiction. I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification, not for financial remuneration.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

It was very early New Year's Day. Another year had started for the young witches and wizards of Highland, Texas, a year rung in by eating black-eyed peas for good luck. It wasn't the way Daria Morgendorffer expected to ring in 1990, but on the other hand old Mrs. Johnson had made it a surprisingly powerful, meaningful ceremony. And now it was time to go home.

She and Raven Caswell walked out to Jeanette Johnson's car. Jeanette would drive them home. Outdoors some people were celebrating in the crazy, destructive ways all too many people in Highland marked certain holidays: with alcohol, drugs, fireworks, and gunshots fired into the air and occasionally at each other. They got in, Daria buckled her seatbelt, and Jeanette started her car. Their drive was relatively short and mercifully uneventful. Other people's weren't: Daria and Raven saw the flares on the road and the red and blue blinking lights of the police and emergency rescue vehicle and were sobered. Someone's year was off to a horribly bad start.

Jeanette dropped Daria off at her door at River Run Cove. Her Mom had given her a key so she could let herself in when she got back from Mrs. Johnson's and Daria felt very grown up about using it. She let herself in, then closed the door and locked it behind her.

Her parents were still up. They'd been watching a movie and sharing a bottle of champagne.

"Hey, Smidget," said Jake. "How was your party?"

"Fine, Dad," said Daria. "It was OK."

"Nobody did any drugs or anything, did they?" said Helen.

"No, Mom," said Daria. "No drugs or alcohol."

"No wand-waving?" said Jake. "No magic spells?"

"No, Dad," said Daria. "We each got little cups of black-eyed peas and ate them for good luck."

"Black eyed peas?" said Jake.

"Black eyed peas?" said Helen. "I haven't thought about black-eyed peas for years." said Helen. "Germaine used to ask me and my sisters if we had any black-eyed peas for good luck each New Year's Day back when I was growing up. If you and your friends were quietly eating black-eyed peas at midnight instead of going hog-wild like some people around here, I definitely approve."

Bemused, Daria retired and went to sleep shortly afterwards.

The Morgendorffers got a phone call that afternoon from Edgar. The Fink-Nottles had not only returned to the UK but had bought a house not too far from Edgar's employers' main office. Cuthbert now had a limp, but in spite of his injury, he remained about as cheerful as ever. Edgar and Camille wished them all a happy new year, then hung up.

School started a few days later. Ellen Bowden stopped by briefly and told Daria that she should try to study as hard as she could between now and the end of her school year at James Ferguson Elementary School.

"It might not seem this way now, but you'll find your arithmetical and composition skills of great help at Ilvermorny and possibly even more so if you do get into Hogwarts," she said.

Her mother concurred with Ms. Bowden's opinion and added that what she was learning now were the foundations of what she'd need to learn if she wanted to go on to college after she graduated from Ilvermorny or Hogwarts.

Late that month, Helen was surprised to find Mrs. Gonzalez, Mrs. Ocampo, and the Aldrete twins at her door. She stared at the delegation, then invited them in. She called for Daria and her eldest came out of her room and stared in surprise at the older women. Helen offered coffee for Mrs. Gonzalez and Mrs. Ocampo and hot tea for the Aldrete sisters.

She then sat down, wondering why they'd come by for a visit.

"I'm sure you're wondering why we stopped by," said Mrs. Gonzalez. "We came by to tell your daughter about our potion-making class. Potion-making is an important part of our education and Marta here teaches rookies like your daughter how to make them properly." Sarita and Connie grinned at Mrs. Ocampo calling Daria a rookie.

Helen thought that early instruction was a good idea but silently wished Jake was here so she could make it look collegial, but Jake and Quinn were out and she and Daria were alone with Veronica, so she had to make the call by herself. Before she could say anything, Veronica came out of her room and saw the visitors.

"Hi!" she said.

"Ah, la niñita!" said Mrs. Gonzalez. "This is your youngest one?"

"Yes, this is my youngest daughter Veronica," said Helen.

"Ronnie, could you say hello to these nice ladies?"

"Hi," said Veronica. "I'm Veronica."

"Veronica, this is Mrs. Gonzalez, Mrs. Ocampo, and these two girls are Sarita and Connie Aldrete," said Helen. "Sarita and Connie go to school with Daria." Preoccupied with watching Veronica's reactions to her guests, Helen missed Connie raising her eyebrows at Sarita and Sarita looking back at her sister and shrugging.

Helen then turned her attention to her oldest daughter. "Daria, there's nothing like having a good start for your education. I think you ought to enroll."

Daria wanted to say no. She would have preferred to put off potion-making until school started that fall, but she looked at the adults in the room and realized that the odds were stacked against her.

"How could I refuse?" she said with less than total enthusiasm.


	2. Beginning Potions

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter Two: Beginning Potions

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. I own neither franchise, nor do I expect or deserve any financial compensation for this work of fiction. I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification, not for financial remuneration. 

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl 

Daria joined her first potion-making class a week later. It was held at Mrs. Ocampo's, but not in her home. Instead it was held in a building behind it. Daria, along with several other young witches and wizards, walked through the door and found themselves inside a room that looked like a cross between a very big kitchen and a high school science laboratory. There were two long benches work tables with four small cauldrons set next to ring stands and burners opposite a smaller work table with another cauldron and ring stand and a black-board behind it. 

"Welcome," said Mrs. Ocampo. "I'm Marta Ocampo. I'll be teaching this class." Mrs. Ocampo was an older lady, a little heavy, but not too much, about medium height with gray hair tied up in a bun. She wore glasses, which made Daria happy. She didn't dress the way Daria thought witches would dress; instead, she wore s long-sleeved blouse and dark, loose pants. 

"Before we get started, I want to find out how much you know," she said. 

"Let's begin with some questions," said Mrs. Ocampo. "How many of you have any experience with potion-making? Raise your hands if you have." The Aldrete sisters' hands went up; Daria's, Raven's, Joe Don's, Ramon's, and Crystal's stayed down. 

"Now, how many of you have any experience with cooking?" asked Mrs. Ocampo. The Aldrete sisters' hands went up, as did Raven's and Crystal's. Daria's, Ramon's, and Joe Don's stayed down. 

"I see," she said. She frowned. 

"Well, I see we're going to have to start at the beginning. We'll start by naming tools." 

Connie Aldrete raised her hand and said "Maestra?" She then said something in Spanish that Daria didn't catch. Mrs. Ocampo responded in Spanish, Connie pouted, and then sat down. 

"I told Connie that since most of you children are English-speakers and because most of you are beginners, this class will mostly be taught in English," she said. 

Despite Mrs. Ocampo's reassurance, Daria began to feel nervous. 

The first part of Daria's first day of potion class was spent first being shown the tools most commonly used for potion-making: cauldron, scales, mortars and pestles, knives, and other tools. Mrs. Ocampo also gave them a list of their Spanish names. Mrs. Ocampo strongly urged each child to buy their own small cauldron and that they buy their own mortars, pestles and cutlery. She recommended granite mortars and pestles for home use. She also recommended that they buy their own scales. 

She then instructed them in proper lab procedures: having tidy work areas, keeping clear spaces to sort and store potion-making ingredients, the need to keep their tools and cauldrons clean between use as well as having someplace to keep their instructions. She told them that the smartest thing was to copy down the instructions on paper, then make a check list. 

Mrs. Ocampo was also a believer in using burners fired by propane or natural gas. "Those Hollywood movies where those actresses are always stirring those steaming cauldrons are ridiculous!" she said. During the course of Mrs. Ocampo's brief rant, Daria learned that many potions were ruined by dirt and cinders before most wizards and witches first shifted over to charcoal, then eventually to burners fired by natural gas or other fuels.. 

Daria spent the next part of her first class learning how to prepare ingredients to go into actual potions. Mrs. Ocampo had them grind, chop, or crush substitutes instead of actual ingredients. "You guys first need to know how to prepare your ingredients first," she said. "Then we can make some potions." 

Daria's second class was spent slicing, chopping, dicing, crushing, weighing, and measuring. By the end of class, it was clear that the Crazy Twins were well ahead of everybody else. Mrs. Ocampo set them to work on their own potion project to one side. The Aldrete sisters would be brewing real potions and Daria, much to her surprise, found that she was jealous. Both Connie and Sarita saw her glaring at them and smirked. 

By the end of the third class, Daria felt that she was ready to take on a real potion. She'd been chopping herbs. Mrs. Ocampo looked at her handiwork and told her not yet, but next time she and her classmates would be able to add their ingredients to a large potion she'd be brewing up front. There were times when Daria thought that this class pace was Mickey Mouse: she was ready to move on to the big time. 

During the fourth class, the whole class participated in making a potion in a large cauldron that Mrs. Ocampo had set up front. Not that they did the actual brewing: instead, they'd all participated by chopping and preparing the ingredients. Daria had been partnered with Joe Don Bollard. Joe Don was a careless worker content to slide by with a little bit of dicing; Daria had had to bully him to get him to chop the herbs fine enough. But they'd done it, and they'd managed to get sixteen ounces of dried sage and oleander ready to go. Daria checked the weight, then dropped the contents into a paper box and marked it with a number 3 using an ordinary ink marker. Mrs. Ocampo glanced at it, nodded approvingly, and rewarded both of them with a smile. It was a good feeling. 

It felt even better when Mrs. Ocampo got started. The children gathered around the cauldron as close as Mrs. Ocampo would let them and watched as she slowly led them through the steps she was taking to brew the class project: in this case a potion for healthy skin. At the end of it, she'd brewed into a pleasant-smelling liquid that she'd left to cool to one side. Despite the fact that she wasn't a fan of beauty products, Daria couldn't help but look at the cauldron's cooling contents and think "Eat your heart out,  
Quinn!". 

-((O-O)))—

Daria didn't brew her first potion until her fifth lesson. Mrs. Ocampo had divided them up into pairs; she was working with Raven. Daria and Raven had both had a long day; Daria had been working on her schoolwork while Raven had been helping her older sister cook dinner before class. Both girls looked at each other and came to the same conclusion: this potion looked easy enough so they could just follow the instructions on Mrs. Ocampo's blackboard. They gathered the ingredients, both girls readied them for brewing, then Raven added them to the cauldron. Daria started stirring once, twice, three times like she was supposed to, but the potion congealed to the thickness of thick paint, then turned rancid. 

_Damn_, she thought. 

Both girls stood there and looked at the contents. _This wasn't supposed to happen_. 

Mrs. Ocampo saw that the girls had stopped work and came by to see what their problem. She looked at the cauldron, looked at the contents, and shook her head. She pulled out her wand and said "Evascio!" and its contents disappeared. 

"OK, girls, what happened?" she said. 

"I think we rushed it," said Daria. "I'd had a long day, we thought we could wing it, so we just copied from the blackboard and went at it." 

Mrs. Ocampo shook her head in disapproval. She'd told both girls, she'd told her class, that they shouldn't rush their work. Daria looked like she knew why she'd ruined her potion. 

"Miss Raven?" she said. 

"Yeah, we were rushing, ma'am," Raven replied. 

"All right, ladies, why don't you go up to the blackboard and write down the instructions?" said Mrs. Ocampo. 

"But we messed up," said Raven. 

"Yes, you _did_ mess up," Mrs. Ocampo replied. "But if you find out just how and where you messed up, you've got less of a chance of repeating your mistake." 

"Oh," said Raven. She hadn't thought of that. When she messed up at home or at school, nobody ever pointed out just where she'd screwed up: she was supposed to know as soon as she screwed up, and if she didn't know just how she'd screwed up, nobody ever bothered to tell her. That was part of the punishment. 

Mrs. Ocampo turned away to see how the other kids were doing. Sarita had been paired with Joe Don and had taken the lead on her team. Daria had just enough time to guess that Sarita had plumbed her depths and found her inner bully. Joe Don looked cowed but pliable. Sarita's approach looked like it was working: their potion looked like it was on track. 

Daria went up to the blackboard and started writing down the ingredients, their quantities, and the directions for brewing their failed potion. She reviewed what she and Raven had done and found where they'd gone off the rails—Daria had added ground cricket legs _before_ stirring three times instead of adding them _afterwards_, and to make matters worse, she'd stirred clockwise when the directions said _counter-clockwise_. 

She was the one who'd screwed up. It was not a comfortable feeling. She looked at Raven and blushed. "I think I found where we went off the rails," she said. "I was the one who messed up." 

Raven rewarded her with a frown. 

"Here," said Daria, "let me show you where."


	3. Nosey Part One

Daria Ravenclaw Owlyear Nosey Part One

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. I own neither franchise, nor do I expect or deserve any financial compensation for this work of fiction. I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification, not for financial remuneration.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Teacher's Lounge James Ferguson Elementary School Highland, Texas

Diocles McGraw stepped into the teacher's lounge for his afternoon cup of coffee. Jeanine Javert was there and waved him over.

"Hi, Quick-Draw!" she said. She'd given him the nickname a couple of years ago and it made them both laugh. "I'm glad I caught you. I've got some important news."

"Can it wait until after I pour myself some coffee?" he said.

"It can," she said.

He went and poured himself a cup of coffee. Mrs. Fuller still believed in stocking the good stuff, but he wondered just how much longer she was going to be around. She was getting near retirement age and Diocles feared the teacher's lounge coffee quality was going to take a sharp turn for the worse.

He came back with his coffee and sat down across the small table from Jeanine.

"So what's the news?" he said.

"It's good news and bad news," she said.

"You might as well tell me the bad news first," he said.

"I'm leaving Highland," she said. "I got a job offer with the Abilene school district with a higher salary and more benefits. I'll be leaving in June.

_Damn_, he thought. He liked Jeanine, he was happy for her, but he didn't want to see her go.

"You'll be nearer your kids, though, won't you?" he said.

"That's my main reason for taking it," she replied. My husband and his children live in Tye, and Abilene's a lot closer than Highland. I'll be able to see them more often."

"So when are you leaving?" he said.

"I'll be leaving in June, but the District's already hired a new guy named Matthew Stearne. They'll be showing him around some of the other schools, but he'll be here for three weeks."

-(((O-O)))—

It was another year at James Ferguson Elementary School. Her last year there, but not too soon to start thinking about junior high and expanding her popularity. She was an ambitious girl and she wanted to shore up her position. Junior High was only two years long in Highland, covering only seventh and eighth grades, but it was a crucible for ambitious girls who wanted to become popular when they finally got into high school.

She glanced around the lunchroom and frowned. So many of her classmates were fashion and grooming disasters. She wasn't going to be; she was already making notes for her wardrobe. She'd have to move into the right circles, but the trouble was she wasn't sure yet as to which of her classmates were going to be in the right circles and which ones just weren't.

There was also some tidying-up to do. There were certain embarrassing people she needed to part with. The more distance she put between herself and them the better.

There was one in particular. Where was she? She glanced around the lunch room and spotted her. Her back was to her, but she recognized her by her height and her long, auburn hair. OMG, she was sitting and talking with the Crazy Twins! How low could you get? And if anyone remembered that they'd once been friends, she'd become an instant pariah.

She'd heard rumors that said that Daria was going off to some fancy-schmancy private school next year. Yeah, right. Morgendorffer was probably smart enough to get into such a place, but did her parents have the bucks to send her there? She doubted it. Her Mom might be a lawyer, but she was paying mortgage on two houses. Fancy talk or no fancy talk, she was certain that Morgendorffer would be around next year. If anyone remembered how they'd been friends back in third grace, it would be the kiss of death to her popularity.

She'd have to do something.

-(((O-O)))-

Jeanine sat down with the new guy in her office. "Well, how do you like James Ferguson Elementary thus far?" she said.

"It's interesting," he said. "I didn't realize that there were so many troubled children here."

_Of course there are. This is Highland, _she thought. Her last three years had been a learning experience. She gave him a half-smile_. Was I ever that naïve, _she thought_. _She suspected that she was.

"There's so much trouble here, but I think I can make a difference here!" he said. "I can get a grip on the most troubled kids, get them into group activities, and turn their lives around."

"We do have after-school programs," said Jeanine. They did. They had several clubs for children sponsored by local businesses and charities that were continuing to hang on despite budget pressures and school-funding cutbacks from the state legislature.

"Is it enough?" said Matthew.

Jeanine glared at him. _Of course it isn't enough. It wasn't adequate when I came on board and it's even less now._

"But what I really need to do is to identify the most troubled children, and get them into programs."

That sounded nice on the surface, but even Jeanine had grown cynical about Principal Trimble and his administration. She suspected that Trimble would fund a token handful of programs like the Boys and Girls Clubs, then try to sneak in some of the barely-disguised clubs that some of the churches were using as fronts for proselytization, but spike anything he considered controversial. She wondered how the Camp Fire Girls would fare; they'd somehow drawn the ire of a couple of area churches.

"Sounds wonderful," said Jeanine. "I assume that when you start identifying the most troubled students here, you'll consult with the school nurse, the administration, as well as the teachers."

"Of course," said Matthew. "And I also will ask the students for their assistance. I'm sure they'll be able to help out."

Jeanine looked at him with incredulity. Diocles would say that this had bad idea written all over it.

"Matthew," she said. "I think that you really need to rethink how to obtain student co-operation."

-(((O-O)))—

She stood up and joined the exodus out of the school auditorium. This was a chickenshit waste of her time, she thought. She wondered why the school counselor would bother to address then. This Stearne guy was a real doofus. She could tell by the way he looked and acted. Did he really expect the kids to narc on their schoolmates? She didn't think so. Not if they didn't want to become instant pariahs.

Despite her loathing for narcing and the weaklings, tattle-tales, and goody-two shoes who enjoyed telling on other students, Stearne's speech remained in the back of her mind.

A program on the Old Movie Network made her realize that maybe there was a way to use Stearne's stupid idea for her benefit after all. She sat down at her desk with a pen and some paper and started to write.

"_Dear Mr. Stearne,_

"_I was so inspired by your speech today and your enthusiasm for turning Ferguson School around. I am so glad you want to reach out to troubled students here at school and help them turn their lives around."_

"_I hate to inform on my fellow students, but there's this one girl, Daria Morgendorffer, about whom I am really concerned. She's got a bad attitude and is really anti-social—"_ She stopped and scowled at what she'd written. She'd have to re-write this note; it was crap.

She exed out her words and continued_. "I am concerned about the way she spends her weekday evenings. I fear that she is running around with a bad crowd and might be—" No, that wouldn't do,_ she thought. "Is getting into the drug scene. I really think you ought to talk with her before she gets into real trouble." _Not good enough_. She'd need to write another couple of drafts before she had something she liked.

OK, when she got something she liked, she'd put it in an envelope and seal it. When school started the next day, she'd find a way to go near his office and slip it under his door. _That'll get her out of her way,_ she thought.

-(((O-O)))—

The PA system came on while Daria was working on English. "Could Daria Morgendorffer report to Ms. Javert's office?" She closed the novel Ms. Fields had assigned as class reading and put it in her desk. She got up and walked to the front of the classroom and Ms. Field's desk.

"Could I have a hall pass, ma'am?" she asked. Ms. Fields opened a drawer in her desk and gave her one of the red-edged cards that James Ferguson Elementary School used for hall passes.

Ms. Javert wasn't in her office. The new guy, Mr. Stearne, was there instead.

"Ah, Miss Morgendorffer," he said. Daria didn't like the timbre of Stearne's voice. It sounded like the tone of voice that adults used when they talked to children they thought were getting into trouble, and it set her teeth on edge.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said.

"It looks like we're talking," she said. _What's this about _was left unsaid_._

"As you know, I'm new here and I'm trying to reach out to the school's students, particularly ones from troubled background," he said.

_Say __**WHAT**_, she thought, but didn't say.

"That's nice," she said, "but shouldn't you be talking to troubled students instead of talking to me?"

"Hah, hah," he said. "I'm glad you have a sense of humor. Humor helps all of us deal with the challenges and complexities of life."

_Boilerplate BS_, she thought.

"I need to talk to you because I need to build a baseline so I can reach out to troubled students here at James Ferguson Elementary School," he said.

Daria glared at him. _The idiot had gotten it into his pea-brain that she was a "troubled student,"_ she thought. _Did he think of it on his own or did someone set him up for it?_

More than anything, she wanted to tell him to get stuffed, then stand up and leave. Unfortunately she was all too aware that she was a little kid and didn't have that option. She hated it.

"I have heard reports that you keep to yourself," he said.

"I have some friends," she replied.

"Do you have many friends in your class?" he asked.

"Not many," she replied. "I don't really relate that well to most of my current classmates. I jumped a grade last year and they still look at me as a fifth-grade wanna-be even though I keep up with them."

"So why don't you have more friends in your class?" asked Mr. Stearnes.

"Most of my friends went on to junior high and high school," she said. "I don't feel like putting in the effort. I'm not going to be here much longer; I'm going to boarding school next year."

"So tell me about your week," he said.

"I keep busy," she said. I do spend Monday and Tuesday at home, but I use the time to work on my homework. I also go to Temple classes with my Dad on Thursday evening." She'd realized that Mrs. Ocampo's work load wasn't that arduous and had just signed up for another class in Temple.

"So where is that?" asked Mr. Stearnes.

"It's in Sweetwater," she said. "I assume that you know where Sweetwater is."

"Are you participating in any other activities?" he asked.

"I am also taking an informal class on Wednesday night," she replied.

"Can you tell me about it?" he asked. "Who runs it? Is she in the phone book? Can I talk to her? Are there any other members of this class in school?"

Daria had already learned enough about the necessity of adhering to the Statutes of Secrecy to go on full alert.

"Mr. Stearne," she replied, giving him her look of strongest disapproval. "I am participating in a structured educational activity supervised by sober, responsible adults. That's all I have to tell you and all you need to know."

"Any more of these sorts of questions, and you can talk to my mother. My Mother is an attorney at law."

_And I'm not just going to talk to my Mom_, she thought. _I'm going to try and get in touch with Ms. Bowden._

"Are we through here?" she said. "I'd like to go."

-(((O-O)))—

She told her mother about the nosy school counselor when she got home that day.

Helen was infuriated. "That man is asking you those sorts of questions?" she said. "Who the hell does she think he is and what is he looking for?"

"He thinks he's a school social worker and he thinks I'm a girl in trouble," Daria replied.

"I'll call the school tomorrow and I'll ask them not to bother you," said Helen.

"I also think you ought to talk to Ms. Bowden in case he decides to bother Joe Don or the Aldrete sisters," said Daria.

"I didn't think you liked Joe Don," said Helen.

"I don't," said Daria. "But that doesn't mean I want to have that smiley-face wanna-be Inquisitor getting him into trouble. Joe Don's likely to be at Ilvermorny with me next year while Stearne is going to be something in my rear-view mirror."

Helen called Ms. Bowden and left a message on her answering machine. Ellen, however, was out of town and didn't get it for several days.

By that time another poison-pen letter had slid under Matthew Stearne's door and the PA system at James Ferguson Elementary School came on and said that Connie Aldrete should report to Mr. Stearne's office.

Mrs. Aldrete called the Bureau of Social Services that evening. Ellen Bowden had returned home and had returned Mrs. Morgendorffer's telephone call. Mrs. Aldrete's phone call, the second complaint about the school social worker, convinced her that something needed to be done.

Ms. Bowden thought that this Stearnes guy could just be someone being zealous, but still the manual said that she was supposed to inform the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She contacted William Casales by telephone. "I think we might need to do some obliviation and some memory-modification work with this Stearne guy," she said.

By chance, James Dillon was in the office and overheard part of the converation.

"Ellen, could you spell this guy's name for me?" said Casales. "That's Stern as in S-T-E-R-N?"

"It's not? It's Stearne as in S-T-E-A-R-N-E? Matthew Stearne. Got it!"

James Dillon's eyes widened. "Casales, my office," he said after Casales hung up.

-(((O-O)))—

At first, Ellen thought that just reporting Stearne's activities would be the end of it, but when it was Marshal Dillon from the Marshal's office that called her back. Ellen had been on the ground for the better part of a year in the Sweetwater District and despite the fact that she was a social worker, not a cop, she'd learned that the Marshal didn't involve himself with the small stuff.

She'd already talked to the Morgendorffers, then to Connie Aldrete. She suspected that this Stearne fellow was somebody people used to call a "Nosey Parker" who didn't have the good sense to leave people some privacy.

By his questions and his tone of voice, though, she thought that the Marshal thought there might be something worse.

Her years of social work had trained to seek ways to de-escalate potentially violent or dangerous situations. In her opinion, Marshal Dillon was overreacting. "Marshal, are you sure you aren't making too big a deal out of this?" she said. "From my talks with Miss Morgendorffer and with Miss Aldrete, the guy's not a Scourer or a child molester. He's a social worker, just a garden-variety idiot who's overstepping his boundaries."

Ellen could tell by Marshal Dillon's expression that he strongly disagreed.

"May I suggest another approach, something more subtle?" she said.


	4. Nosey Part Two

Daria Ravenclaw The Year of the Owl. Nosey: Part II

Marshal Dillon grumpily backed down and decided that Ms. Bowden's idea might work better. He still wanted Stearne questioned to see if he was from an old Scourer family that had been laying low and he still wanted blood samples.

Ellen decided to use her contacts with the Obliviators. She called her friend Joan Putnam. Joan was one of those witches who carried cell phones. She picked up on the third ring.

"Joan!" said Ellen Bowden. "Thanks for calling me back!" Joan Putnam was on the local Obliviation squad and Ellen had worked with her before.

"Make it fast, Ellie, I'm trying to enjoy some beach time!"

"I'll do what I can," said Ellen. "There's this guy in Highland, a school social worker, who's been hassling a couple of our kids who go to the public schools. We don't think he's an old Scourer or a Grindelwald hold-out, but the Marshals would like to question him and then gently nudge him into dropping his investigation."

"Sounds like something I could do, but I was long overdue for a vacation and I _**really**_ want to relax for a few days," said Joan.

"I hear you," said Ellen. "Maybe there's someone else you could recommend?"

"Let me think," said Joan.

There was silence as both witches waited for Joan to gather her thoughts.

"OK, I've got someone you could contact. There's a gal who works out of Houston with the Obliviation squad over there. She might be someone you can use."

"What's her name?"

"Jennifer Pullman. I'll give you her cell number. It's 555-867-5309."

-((O-O)))-

The Bagpiper Apartments  
Highland, Texas

Darryl Hansen was a dirtbag. That was not uncommon: Highland, Texas was blessed (or cursed) with an abundance of dirtbags. And Darryl fit into the Highland pattern quite well: petty theft, rolling drunks, breaking and entering (although he preferred automobiles to and storage houses and trailers) and scamming, either current girlfriends or straights.

He had other vices: he liked to party and get high, preferable in settings where he could hit on and score on some cute thing who was looking for some excitement. Gambling, either with cards or sometimes on sports was another one of his hobbies, howbeit an expensive one. He knew he needed to cut back on that, but he told himself he'd do it after he made a big score.

Darryl had what more virtuous types would call a cash-flow problem. Partying was expensive, especially with the good stuff that the cops hated. So was gambling. He needed money, and a lot of it. He owed Jimmy big money for those pills, and Jimmy wasn't patient. If he could get some, no questions asked, the better.

He was cooking dinner (canned chili and rice) when someone knocked on his door. The knock put him on alert, but he relaxed when he realized that it wasn't hard enough to announce Jimmy or one of his buddies. He owed Jimmy money and he'd heard that Jimmy was getting PO'd because he hadn't started paying him back yet.

He opened the door.

It was a girl: taller than most, about five foot seven, maybe five foot eight. She had dyed blond hair and looked pretty buff.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he said back. "Who are you looking for?"

"Are you Darryl Hansen?" she said.

"Who wants to know?" said Darryl.

"Like I do," said the girl. "Like I heard he has a cash-flow problem. I can help if he does me some little favors."

"Like what sort of favors?" asked Darryl.

"Like there's this dude I'm checking up," she said. "While I'm checking up on him, I need a place to stay."

"Are you a cop?" asked Darryl.

"Sort of," said Jenny. "Except that I make problems disappear." Darryl saw the look on her face and shivered.

"You do just what I tell you and we'll get along fine."

Darryl gave her a resentful look, which she returned with the sort of indulgent smile he'd gotten from hard-cases that give little weenies they could crush like bugs without working up a sweat.

He wondered who she could be, then had a horrid realization. She was one of _those_. _A hoodoo_.

_The hoodoos_. Darryl thought that he was pretty smart, at least smarter than the average slug working his tail off for nickles and dimes. Sometimes he screwed up, sometimes the cops showed him different, but he liked to think that he learned from his experience, something a lot of Highland's underworld never did.

Like many of Highland's grubbier residents, Darryl had heard about the hoodoos. He'd once thought they were just a rumor, but after Reinhard disappeared, he decided that they might be real after all and decided to stay out of their way. He didn't know what they looked like, and he heard that they changed faces and appearances the way some girls changed their outfits, so it didn't matter much if you did think that you knew what they looked like. The hoodoos didn't rob, they didn't steal, but if you did something to hack them off, like mug the wrong citizen, break into the wrong house and steal something with bad juju, they came out of nowhere and hit you hard. If you were lucky, you'd find yourself stoned, beaten-up, and lying in front of some cop's patrol car. If you weren't so lucky, well, Highland had a lot of wide empty spaces around it that the hoodoos could use for dumping bodies.

"I'm going to move in with you, but first I want to get you squared away with your creditors," said the girl.

"My what?" said Darryl.

"The people you owe money to," said the girl. "I'm told that you owe Jimmy at least three figures. And that you owe Deke at least two."

_How did she know that_, Darryl wondered.

"I'm gonna go change," she said. She marched into his bedroom like she owned it and closed the door behind her.

She came out a couple of minutes later and Darryl couldn't help but look at her and think "Wow!".

"Let's go," she said.

The Sundowner was a badly-lit dive off a side-street in one of Highland's rougher parts of town.

He had to admit that the girl—her name was Jenny—was pretty hot. She wore a sexy long-sleeved black blouse with tails tied in the middle, showing a nice bust and a slim waistline. She wore shorts and Daryl had to admit that as scary as she was, she had great legs. They got out of his car and she walked over to the door. "Open it," she said. "I'll cover you."

She walked in ahead of him and both of them started looking for Jimmy. He spotted him first. Jimmy was sitting at a booth in the back, several of his guys either seated with him or at tables next to him. Jimmy and his guys gave him deadly looks.

"What are you doing here, Hansen?" said Jimmy. "Trying to weasel some more money from me? You haven't even paid me the money you owe me."

"Actually he's with me," said the girl, giving him a smile. "I found out that he owes you some money. I want to make sure that Darryl here is squared away with you while he does me some favors."

The incongruity of what the girl just said made Jimmy stop in his tracks and stare at the girl. Despite the fact that she didn't look like she was carrying, she hung loose like someone ready to deal with trouble. If he had to guess the girl's age by her look, he'd guess she was nineteen. But she didn't look like she was a nineteen-year-old-she acted a lot older.

She also looked him and his guys in the eyes and smiled at all of them. She had a lovely smile, but it stopped somewhere above her cheekbones. This girl was trouble, and even if that snitch over by the bar wasn't there, Steve decided that it wasn't worth the hassle. Besides, if the girl was dealing, he might make some money out of it.

"So how much does he owe?" she said.

"Three hundred sixty seven dollars," Steve replied.

The girl pulled out what looked like an oversized chop-stick from the sleeve of her blouse, set it on the table, then opened her handbag. Steve didn't like the way the chopstick was pointed at him. She counted out three crisp hundreds, a fifty, and a twenty.

"Will that do it?" she said.

"We're good," said Steve.

"Cool," said the girl. The girl picked up her chopstick and put it back in her sleeve. Steve glanced over to the right and watched in shock as the air shimmered and a guy appeared in one of the other booths.

_Holy crap, the girl must be one of the hoodoos_. He wondered who or what had stirred them up, and why. Someone was in a truckload of trouble. _At least it wasn't him_, he thought.

"Nice doing business with you," said the girl, "but we're on the clock. G'night!"

She rose, took Darryl in hand, then left the bar.

The now-visible man looked at him, tipped an imaginary hat at him, smiled, and said "Good ev'nin" and also left.

-(((O-O)))—

Daryl had another creditor named Fat Jack, a local bookie. Jenny found him at a discount store of all places, and paid off his debt in full view of the store's surveillance monitors. The store had other customers and Jenny had her stick out, so Fat Jack took what he'd owed him without making a scene. As a matter of fact, Fat Jack was so bemused that he made it a point to snow Jenny with a display of good manners, although the hoodoo gave no sign of being amused.

-(((O-O)))-

"So why are you at my place instead of someplace else?" asked Darryl.

"There's a guy who's being nosy about some of our kids and we want to question him and then send him on his way after we set him straight," said Jenny.

"Why my place?" he asked.

"Because he's staying here," she answered.

_Hoodoos had kids?_ The idea was boggling. Darryl never thought that the hoodoos had kids. He didn't have any, didn't want any, but he could see why they'd be upset.

"Who is he? If you want, I can do him," said Darryl.

"Thanks, but no thanks," said Jenny. "Too much bother."

"I'll tell you his name, but you'll have to promise to stay out of our way. And I'll get mad if you interfere. You _really_ won't like me if I get mad." She smiled at him and he felt the energy rising in his living room.

"OK. Promise," Darryl said quickly.

"It's Matthew Stearne. He lives upstairs and over," said Jenny.

Darryl had seen Stearne. The guy was a total dweeb.

"Here's when it goes down. We want you out of the picture," said Jenny.

Darryl swallowed.

"Relax, we aren't going to waste you," she said. "We just want you out of the way."

There was a knock on the door.

"Jenny, are you in there?" said a male voice.

"Yeah, I'm here with my new landlord," Jenny relied. "Come on in."

The door opened and Darryl saw that it was the visible man from the Sundowner.

"Excuse me, Bill, but I'm still talking with Darryl here," said Jenny.

"You ever been to the Cimarron?" she said, turning her attention back to Darryl.

"Yeah," said Darryl. He'd been to the Cimarron. It was a casino resort built on the site of an old Pueblo ruin. It wasn't as nice as the fancy places on the Las Vegas Strip, but he'd never been able to afford those places either.

"There are buses that go up there out of Midland," said this Bill guy. Darryl didn't like this Bill guy. The Bill guy had cop written all over him. "You'll be on one."

They packed him off on a weekend casino bus. He had a small committee to send him off: the Bill guy, Jenny, a scary guy that looked like an old west sheriff turned real, and another woman he didn't know. He got on it. They said he was comped for the bus, his room, and free meals. He had some cash on him, although he suspected that he'd soon run out in the resort's casino.

"Bet on thirteen on the roulette wheel," the other female hoodoo called out before he boarded the bus, a woman who looked like she ought to be a checker at Kicker's Boots.

Darryl took his seat and shivered. The bus started. He was off to the Cimarron, and he didn't want to know what was going on at his place.

-(((O-O)))—

With Darryl out of the way, Jenny went to work. Darryl's apartment was a pig-pen; she set about cleaning it up. She used spells and hot water to scour dirty dishes before they went into the dishwasher, spells to scour the counter ank sink, and spells to run through Darryl's mail. Darryl had a lot of junk mail; she used a reducto spell to reduce its footprint before putting it in a trash bag to put in the apartment complex's dumpster. After a while the kitchen and dining areas started looking ship-shape. She then went to work on the living room.

The living area presented different challenges. Some people cluttered because they were intellectually curious and lost track of their various research projects. Others were easily distracted. Jenny decided that Darryl belonged to the third and most common category: they were just plain messy. Most of Darryl's living area clutter was trash, which she used her wand to shrink then flick into trash-bags.

Darryl also had crap under and behind his seat cushions. That was more worrisome. There were coins, a couple of loose dollar bills, as well as the packaging from what Jenny was certain was packaging from illegal drugs, but nothing involved needles. Some stained and rumpled sports and girlie magazines joined the food wrappers and old wrappers in another trash bag. After spellwork, the sofa and cushions were clean, and after levitating the couch and cleaning the areas behind and underneath it, that part of the living room was clean, too. She also took the glasses out of Darryl's kitchen cabinet and replaced them with some that had been hexed: the latter were essential to her plan.

_Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly_, she said to herself, then ruefully noted that most spiders didn't have to do nearly this much work to catch their prey.

She looked at her watch and noted how the time had flown. Magic made housework faster and easier but it still took time. It was now mid-afternoon, Stearne would be getting off work soon and she needed to freshen up.

She took another shower, touched up her make-up and put on another hot outfit.

She looked at her watched, then checked her hand mirror. William Casales' image was there looking at her.

"It's time," she said, "Come on over. Disillusionment works wonders."


	5. Nosey Part Three

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter 5: Nosey Part 3

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. I own neither franchise, nor do I expect or deserve any financial compensation for this work of fiction. I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification, not for financial remuneration.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Matthew Stearne pulled in to the Bagpiper's parking lot. He didn't like the apartment complex; It was old, beat-up, and he didn't like his neighbors. Some were elderly: people who lived on pensions and Social Security, others on Social Security and disability, several of them were drunks, and a couple of them were clearly the sorts his parents had told him to stay away from.

He'd not had a pleasant day at school. He'd had to report to Principal Trimble's office and then try to explain why he'd taken an interest in Mrs. Aldrete's twins and Mrs. Morgendorffer's older daughter. He'd explained that he'd received reports that they'd been participating in anti-social behavior; Principal Trimble told him that he'd received angry letters and phone calls from Mrs. Morgendorffer, an attorney who worked in Midland, calling his allegations falsehoods and threatening legal action.

He trudged upstairs to his apartment door, put his key in the lock and tried to turn it. It wouldn't budge. He tried again and he could hear the tumblers inside the lock move but it still wouldn't open.

_Hot. Spit_, he thought. He'd have to talk to the manager.

He walked to the manager's office and found that it was closed for the day. The manager didn't live on the premises; instead she lived at another complex and Matthew wasn't sure which one. He'd have to call a locksmith. He angrily stalked back towards his apartment. He did have a cell phone, but he left it at his apartment.

He was screwed.

A dyed-blonde girl looked at him while he was trudging towards the staircase.

"Hey!" she said. "Wassup?"

He took a closer at the girl. She looked like all those cool, hot girls he saw back when he was a high-schooler, then as an undergrad at college: the ones who looked like they were ready to go out and party all night. Most of those never gave him so much as a passing glance.

"I locked myself out," he replied.

"Bummer," said the girl. "Like can't you call the manager or somethin'?"

"I can call, but she's gone for the night and I need to get a locksmith," he replied.

"You got a cell or do you need a phone?" she said.

"I need a phone," he replied. "I left mine inside."

"That really sucks," she said.

"Hey, there's a phone in my place."

"You don't have to," said Matthew.

"It's OK," she said. "I'm cool."

He went downstairs and entered her apartment. He didn't think it was decorated the way a girl would decorate her place.

"is there some guy living here?" he asked.

"Yeah, Darryl," she said disdainfully. "This is his place. I'm house-sitting while he's away at the Cimarron."

Hey, want something to drink?" she asked.

"What is it?" he said, when she returned with what looked like a pink-colored shake in two different glasses.

"It's a Smoothie," she said. "It gives me energy and helps me keep my weight down. I drink it all the time." Well, she drank it sometimes. She'd made two before Matthew had gotten home and cut his with a potion that made its victims pliable and suggestible.

She handed him a Smoothie, then raised her glass. "Here's mud in your eye," she said cheerfully and too a sip of hers.

An older and wiser guy might have been more careful about taking drinks from strangers, but Stearne hadn't yet reached that point of wisdom. Not wanting to disappoint the pretty girl, he raised the glass to his lips He drank all of it and before too long he started gently swaying and Jenny realized that he was under the influence.

"Now Matthew, I want you to remain seated for a moment," she said.

"Sure," said Matthew who was gently swaying on the couch, clearly under the influence.

She knocked on the bedroom door to let Casales know that Stearne was under control.

"Hey, Bill, Matthew here has had a little too much," she said. "I think we need to get him to the doctor." She let Casales put his arm around Stearne's shoulder to keep him from falling, then said "See you at the Clinic."

Casales disapparated out with a loud pop, taking Stearne with him.

-(((O-O)))—

The Clinic wasn't a clinic. It was actually an interrogation room in the MACUSA's Department of Magical Law Enforcement facilities in Abilene. Casales let Matthew Stearne slide into the padded chair across from him.

"Hey, Matt," said Casales. "That Smoothie is not working out for you. Could you stay there until you come down a little?"

"Sure," said Stearne.

Jenny entered the room, her wand out. She was positive that Stearne was under the influence, but she preferred to play it safe. She'd played too close to the edge by remaining alone in a room with a person of interest like Stearne and she wanted to get back in the safety zone.

"Hey, Matt, how're you feeling?" she said.

"Weird," he said. "like I'm dizzy and that I'm walking on cushions. Was that Smoothie spiked?"

Jenny looked at Casales and smirked. Matt wasn't _all_ dumb then.

"Matt, we have to ask you some questions," said Casales.

"Whatever," said Matt. "Could I have some water?"

"We heard about some of the students you're interested in?" said Casales.

"Which ones?" said Stearne.

"The ones over at Ferguson Elementary," said Casales.

"Oh," said Stearne, still clearly under the influence, "you mean the three girls?"

"Yeah, the older Morgendorffer and the Aldrete twins," said Jenny. She'd been briefed before the operation.

"So what inspired you to get interested in Miss Morgendorffer and Connie Aldrete?" asked Casales.

"I was trying to reach out to some of the children at the school, the ones in trouble," said Stearne. "Make a difference. I thought I could shake things up."

"So how did you pick those three girls?" asked Casales.

"The other kids helped," said Stearne. "Notes under my door. Said they were into drugs or troublemakers."

Casales and Pullman weren't the only ones listening to Stearne. The interrogation room had a see-through mirror as well as devices that acted much like Mundie speakers and microphones. Audelia Custis, the head of MACUSA's social services for the Sweetwater District, listened to Stearne's comments and frowned.

"Fool," she said, not bothering to keep her thoughts to herself. She was an administrator these days but she'd been down in the trenches for years before she moved up. She'd not only dealt with troubled magical children and parents and troubled Mundie children and parents, but also with more than a few Mundane social workers and administrators, howbeit usually undercover, not as someone working for the MACUSA. This Stearne fellow had not only violated the guidelines she was certain were in place in Highland's schools but had also set off a Mundie-style witchhunt. She was tempted to go right in and give the Stearne fellow a piece of her mind. However, she was a professional and she needed to bide her time.

The interrogation went on. Yes, there was another social worker at the young witches' school. No, Stearne had not followed school procedures when he decided to single out the three girls for attention. He'd thought that anonymous notes under his door was enough evidence to launch his inquiry.

One of the Obliviators walked in to the room and set her coffee on the small table next to Audelia.

"Are they about done with him yet?" she asked.

"Not yet," said Audelia. "I think you need to give him a hypnotic suggestion to follow procedures and to leave those girls alone."

Casales left the Interrogation Room a couple of minutes later. "We're about done with him," he said. "He doesn't appear to be a Scourer, just a nosy idiot."

"That's about what I concluded," said Mrs. Custis.

She waited a couple of more minutes, knocked on the door, then entered the Interrogation Room.

"Mr. Stearne, I'd like to have a word with you," she said.

"Whatever," said Stearne.

"You violated procedures when you bothered the Morgendorffer girl and the Aldrete sisters," she said. "That was a bad thing. You shouldn't do that."

"That was a bad thing," Stearne echoed. "I shouldn't do that."

"No, you shouldn't," said Mrs. Custis.

"Nope," said Stearne.

"The Aldrete girls and Miss Morgendorffer are none of your business," said Mrs. Custis. "Do you think you can remember that?"

"I can remember that," said Stearne. "The Aldrete girls and Miss Morgendorffer are none of my business."

Still feeling more than a little out-of-it from the potion, he asked "So what now?"

"You'll have a moment with Cloud, then we'll send you home," said Mrs. Custis.

"Home," said Stearne. "That would be nice. I'm tired. I wanna call it a day."

He didn't see Mrs. Custis motion the Obliviator into the room. Nor did he remember the Obliviator modifying his memories. He did remember seeing his turned-down sheets and pillow welcoming his arrival and fell asleep almost immediately. 

-(((O-O)))— 

The next morning Stearne woke up with a headache and the certainty that _something_ had happened last night, although he didn't remember what. In any case, Daria Morgendorffer and the Aldrete sisters were no longer on his mind. He decided that maybe Ms. Javert could help him learn how to spot the school's more troubled children.


	6. Behemoth

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter 6: Behemoth

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. I own neither franchise, nor do I expect or deserve any financial compensation for this work of fiction. I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification, not for financial remuneration.

Rated "T" for language. Highland's two most famous sons make a guest appearance!

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Daria didn't really pay any further attention to Mister Stearne's harassment except to note that it stopped. Stearne was packed off to another one of Highland's elementary schools and Daria put him out of her mind, except to wonder which unlucky school got him. She hoped it was John Wesley Hardin Elementary, where the _really_ mean kids went to school. She smiled, thinking about the dire things that could happen to Stearne if either the parents or the students got their hands on him.

Potion Class continued. Her potions were occasionally duds, but she thought she was getting better. She usually alternated between being partners with Raven and Joe Don Bollard. The quality of her potions could vary with her lab partners and whether they were paying attention: when she got to work with the Aldrete sisters, her potions were almost always successful, when she made potions with Raven, Crystal or Ramon, they usually worked out, but it was often hit or miss with Joe Don. Still, she'd managed to hit the forty percent success rate when she worked with him.

She was also continuing with her Temple classes. Thus far she was the only Morgendorffer daughter who went; despite her Dad's and Rabbi Tallman's invitations, Quinn didn't choose to go. She was again taking Hebrew: she'd reached the point where she could read words, but she couldn't really speak it.

In the meantime, the clock was ticking. This was her last school year in Highland: this time next year, she'd either be up in the Berkshires at Ilvermorny or, less likely, off at Hogwarts.

-(((O-O)))—

Daria was passing through the living room when she heard the announcement on the television.

"And in other news, the Union Pacific Railroad is running its famed steam locomotive 832 through Highland on its way from Saint Louis to California," said Mitchel Bland, the local station's news anchor. Daria stopped to listen.

_Cool_, she thought. Daria wasn't a hard-core railway enthusiast the way Mr. Fink-Nottle had been. Nor was she as interested in trains as her Dad was. Still, she liked them enough that she wanted to see it. She decided to find out just when the train would be running through Highland.

There was an article about UP 832 the next morning in the Highland newspaper confirming the previous night's television report. The steam train would be passing through Highland on Friday afternoon. It wasn't likely to stop. At a guess, Daria supposed that it would run along much of Interstate 20 from El Paso to Fort Worth. She knew that she was interested; she hoped that her Dad was too. She decided to ask him when he got home.

She ambushed him in the living room. "Say Dad, could we go down to the old railroad station and see the Union Pacific steam train?" said Daria.

"Kiddo, the UP doesn't run steam locomotives anymore," Jake said fondly. "They stopped running them years before you were born."

"They do have a couple of excursion locomotives," said Daria, "and they do run those from time to time. It was on the news last night and in the paper this morning." She held up the newspaper with the article about the steam train passing through town.

Jake took the paper from his daughter and read the article. _Holy Cow, the railroad was going to rung the train through Highland,_ he thought wonderingly.

"So you'd like to see it, Kiddo?" said Jake.

"Yeah, really," said Daria, giving him one of her rare smiles. She really _did_ want to see it.

"Is it going to stop here?" said Jake.

"Probably not," said Daria. "But it would be cool to see it, even if it's moving and not stopping."

Jake picked her up from school Friday afternoon, then drove over to day care to pick up Ronnie. Quinn wasn't with them; she'd decided to give it a pass and went home with some friends. Daria was concerned that she and her Dad had already missed seeing no. 832: the train was supposed to have run through Highland a couple of hours earlier. She'd bought a disposable camera to take a few pictures and worried that by doing so, she'd jinx her chances to see it. But maybe she hadn't: she hadn't heard anything like a whistle, and the trains did have to blow their whistle when they crossed a road, and locomotive whistles were loud enough to be heard from miles away.

They reached the old passenger station, now city offices, and saw a crowd gathered by the railroad tracks. The UP must not have run their train through town, thought Daria. She couldn't imagine this many people waiting to see an ordinary freight train.

They couldn't park next to the station. They had to park a couple of blocks away; more than a few people had decided to come down and see the working steam locomotive. Daria helped her youngest sister get out of the car and together with their Dad, they crossed the street and walked towards the tracks.

Highland had its own steam locomotive: a forlorn-looking steam locomotive that had been brought from the railroad by a gravel company, then later donated to the city. It was now painted solid black and sat behind a chain-link fence topped by barbed wire. It hadn't run since her Dad was in kindergarten back in Coalton.

Most of the people waiting to see the train were strangers. Daria did recognize a couple of them: a couple of people she knew that worked at her Dad's business, a couple of guys she'd remembered who'd been foamers like Mr. Fink-Nottle.

Daria wondered how close they'd be allowed to get to the rails and quickly learned that they weren't allowed to get too close. Some Highland cops and Howard County sheriff's deputies told the crowd to keep their distance from the tracks.

She did worry that she wouldn't be able to see anything. Happily, some of the railroad buffs who'd come down to see the steam train were decent enough to let the shorter children stand in front of the adults so they'd be able to get a good view.

Ronnie wondered how long they'd have to wait. "Has the train come yet?" she asked.

"Not yet," said Daria. "I think we'll be able to hear it before we'll be able to see it."

She looked around for her Dad and found him talking with another railroad buff. Both of them knew something about trains, but not as much as a hard-core enthusiast like Mister Fink-Nottle.

Still, some people knew very little. "Like I've lived here seven years now, but I don't know much about the railroads around here," said a man who looked like he came to the depot directly from work. "Did the Union Pacific build this line?"

"No, this used to be the old T&P before the Union Pacific took them and the MoPac over," said the rail fan who'd been talking to her Dad. Daria thought she might have met him and that his name was Jack.

"Is the train going to stop here?" asked the office guy.

"No, it's going to come this way and then keep going west towards Midland and then El Paso on the old T&P," said Jack.

Daria decided not to follow the conversation and decided to see if she saw anyone she knew in the crowd. She didn't recognize that many of the grown-ups who had gathered around the tracks. As the crowd grew, she recognized several kids from school. Then she recognized two more of them and rolled her eyes.

"Hey, Butthead," said one of the boys to the other one. "He said Tee Pee."

"Uh, Beavis," said Butthead "Like is this entire train made out of TP?"

"A train made out of TP," said Beavis. "That would be cool." He kicked the rail to find out.

"Ow!" he said. "You ass-wipe! That's metal! You said this train was made out of TP!"

"Dill breath!" said Butthead.

"Butt-munch!" said Beavis

And they were off on a roll. Daria didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Are those guys in school?" said Veronica, who must have heard the whole exchange.

"Yes," said Daria.

"They're both idiots," said Ronnie.

"No kidding, June Bug," said Daria, tousling her younger sister's hair.

The crowd continued to wait for the steam train.

Daria heard someone say that the train was about thirty minutes away.

She heard the grade crossing signals begin to activate and wondered it that was the steam train approaching the station.

It wasn't. Instead a long freight train pulled by three big yellow diesels rumbled through on its way west to El Paso. The lead locomotive had an American shield emblem with wings on the front and "Union Pacific" in big red lettering on the sides so nobody could miss who they belonged to. She took a couple of pictures of the locomotives pulling it.

The train rumbled past, the grade crossing bells stopped ringing, and Daria wondered if the show was over for the day. She'd just given up hope when she heard a distant whistle, the sort of whistle she'd thought would be on an old-time river boat. The steam train was coming.

It took a long time for the steam train to appear. At first she could see nothing but a light and a distant shadow. She watched the shadow on the horizon grow bigger and bigger and bigger until she could actually see the steam locomotive pulling something.

For a moment she felt a little dizzy and wondered if her mind was playing tricks on her. Why did she imagine a much smaller red steam locomotive with a much higher-pitched whistle coming down the track?

She blinked, she reverted to the here-and-now and she could now see the steam train approach. This one was real. It was huge and black and gray and bellowed like a dragon. Daria had seen trains running through Highland before but never anything like this. She first heard the train whistle; it didn't honk like a diesel or a highway truck, it whistled like an old-time steam boat. And it was LOUD. Shortly afterwards she began to hear the chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff of the cylinders as the piston rods turned the wheels. It ran by shaking the ground and pulling a long string of yellow cars with red lettering after it.

To her delight, it slowed down and stopped. There were several baggage cars behind the locomotive and what looked like a long string of passenger cars painted yellow with red letters and stripes, all having gray roofs.

The two idiots wouldn't shut up. They saw the train roll to a stop and shouted "TeePee, TeePee, TeePee, TeePee!" A couple of would-be videographers looked daggers at them.

Jake made his way through to the yellow tape barrier set up by the cops. "Daria, Ronnie," he said. "Let's see some of the train. They first walked towards the locomotive. It was huge: much bigger than the relic preserved nearby. The locomotive and tender were longer than their old house on Whirlwind Drive. The driving wheels alone looked like they must be seven feet tall. Daria took several pictures; she'd send a couple of prints to the Fink-Nottles but she wanted some for herself.

Daria stared in wonder at the huge steam locomotive. She had heard and used the word behemoth, although without much thinking about it. She'd never thought anything could look like a behemoth until now. This time, though, she decided she'd finally seen one.

She wasn't alone. Her Dad and Ronnie were also staring at the locomotive.

"I wish we could get on it," said Ronnie.

"Me, too, June Bug," said Jake. "Me, too."

The steam train remained motionless for less than ten minutes. Its whistle then gave two quick, loud blasts and it began to roll forward again. First the engine, then the tender, then the baggage cars, then the passenger cars. The passenger cars had names. Daria wondered why they had names like The Challenger, The Forty Niner, and The Sunshine Special, then remembered that those were probably the names of old passenger trains. The string of cars rolled past and as the last one began to shrink into the distance with the rest of the train, Daria realized the show was over. Still, the big locomotive that had just run by had seemed almost alive. Maybe the days of wonder weren't all done with after all, she thought. Maybe the most improbable things could come to life.

-(((O-O)))-

Author's notes. The real-life west Texas town I used as inspiration for Highland does NOT have a preserved steam locomotive, and its railroad passenger station was torn down in 1968.


	7. Sirius Gets A Package

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Sirius Gets A Package

DISCLAIMER: As I've said before, I do not own the rights to either Daria or Harry Potter. They belong to MTV Viacom (Daria) and JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers (Harry Potter). Nor do I own the rights to Beavis and Butthead.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Azkaban Prison North Sea  
Late March, 1990

"Mail call!" said the guards.

"Any letters?" asked Sirius.

"None for the likes o' you," sneered Jennings

"There's a package for you, Black!" said the other guard. Stebbins, if Sirius remembered his name right. "If you want it, you'd better follow the drill."

His grandfather had started writing him: occasionally, not too often. He usually wrote about his travels, old acquaintances, occasionally people he thought that Sirius might know, but nothing about his daughter in Texas. The lack of information about the girl hurt. Was his grandfather trying to twist the knife in his heart by saying nothing, or did he have other motives? Sirius didn't know, but suspected the former,

His grandfather had also started sending him the occasional package: clothing, mostly, although he did send him some wizarding treats. This might be one of those times. Sirius decided he'd co-operate with the guards despite the humiliation, fresh underwear, woolen socks, and a jumper was a great help against the cold and damp of his cell.

He backed against the far wall of his cell and a guard unlocked his cell. Two guards stepped in: Stebbins and Jennings stepped inside. Hennings smiled cruelly at him and said "I don't know why anyone would want to send anything to the likes o' you. T'were me, I wouldn't bother." Jennings dropped the package, drew his wand, then backed out of his cell. The cell door closed and Sirius could hear Jennings turn the key to lock it.

He stepped away from the wall, then bent down to the package to see what was in it.

The package had been opened, its contents examined. For some reason or other the guards hadn't vandalized the contents. He'd received new socks, new underwear and a jumper. The latter hung loosely on him; his grandfather must have guessed his size from clothing he or his father had worn before he'd been sent to Azkaban.

For some reason or other, the guards had also left some of the packaging. He'd learned to appreciate it in the last couple of years: his grandfather had used old, wadded-up newsprint for padding, and he'd learned that it provided him with glimpses of the outside world as well as material for wiping his bum.

Most of the newsprint had been British. He learned to his disgust that Lucius Malfoy had working on his rehabilitation despite the fact that he was as committed to the Death Eaters as he had been while wearing his mask. Minister Bagnold was also in trouble, which also pleased him. He didn't read it all at one go; instead, he saved some for later.

He didn't discover where else some of the newsprint had come from until the following day. There were several pages of announcements and news articles from _Tex Arcana_, a paper he'd never heard of. Boredom as well as the knowledge that his daughter was alive somewhere in Texas prevented him from throwing it away.

It wasn't until he saw the picture of an older dark-skinned witch and read the headline "Marta Ocampo: Still Going Strong" that he realized that his grandfather might have had a purpose in sending him pages from the Texas newspaper. Madam Ocampo lived in a town called Highland and taught potion-making to young wizards and witches among her many other activities. The article included a photograph of Madam Ocampo and several youngsters standing behind a line of small cauldrons, none of them looking older than twelve. Three of them were dark-skinned like Madam Ocampo and Sirius was certain he wasn't related to them. He was also positive that he wasn't kin to the vacant-eyed boy on the end. The gaunt-faced dark-haired girl didn't look like anyone related to the Blacks or the Rosiers either, but the auburn-haired girl, the one that had the look of a Barksdale…

He wondered if that was a message. He'd long hated his grandfather along with the rest of his family, but his grandfather had less of the cruelty his mother had possessed, the madness from his mother's cruelty replaced by a cold, ruthless logic. Not that his grandfather was prone to softness or compassion: his grandfather had painfully rebuked him several times for being a fool of a Gryffindor and lacking any of the subtlety that had allowed the Blacks to flourish over a thousand years.

Subtlety. Was his grandfather trying to send him a message as well as clothing? He checked the date of the tabloid. That issue had been printed in early March, a scant couple of weeks ago. His daughter had been born in 1979. She'd be nearing her eleventh birthday now. He looked at the photo of Madam Ocampo's potion-making class and remembered a tall, auburn-haired American woman propositioning him at that inn over a decade ago. The auburn-haired girl looked like she could be ten or eleven: she could well be the woman's daughter. That meant…The old bastard might have been cleverer than he'd thought.

An idea roused from dormancy. Maybe he ought to start thinking of ways to escape.

-(((O-O)))-

Author's notes: The gaunt-face girl is an eleven year-old version the tall brunette with shoulder-length black hair and prominent cheekbones from Beavis and Butthead. To my knowledge, she never had a speaking part.


	8. A Wand For Daria

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. A Wand for Daria

DISCLAIMER: As I've said before, I do not own the rights to either Daria or Harry Potter. They belong to MTV Viacom (Daria) and JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers (Harry Potter)

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

In the middle of March, Señora Gonzalez, one of Highland's informal witchly matriarchs, stopped by Casa Morgendorffer for a visit. Quinn wasn't there; neither was Daria. After saying "hello," Ronnie went back to her room. Señora Gonzalez sat down in a chair in the living room, looked Jake in the eye, and said "Your daughter's nearly eleven, isn't she? She's going to need a wand of her own."

"Aren't we supposed to wait until she goes off to school?" asked Helen.

"You could," said Mrs. Gonzalez, "but they'll not only be very expensive but the shops will be crowded with mother and fathers buying wands for their children."

_Mrs. Gonzalez had a point_, thought Helen, remembering her last trip to New York for a legal conference and being shocked by the prices.

"Why not buy your daughter a wand made here?" said Mrs. Gonzalez "Made in Texas by Texans."

Jake had heard that old sales pitch for years, but he wasn't quite sure about Texas-made wands. He also suspected that the wand-maker was probably one of Mrs. Gonzales' relatives. On the other hand, Jake had to admit that if there were better wands at better prices made elsewhere, he didn't have a clue as to where to find them or how much they cost.

"So who makes these wands?" asked Helen. "Are they local?"

"One of my cousins," said Mrs. Gonzalez.

Helen and Jake looked at each other. Their facial expressions and body language were like a conversation: it was as if they asked: _are these wands any good? Are there better ones out there? If we do buy Daria this wand, will it be good enough?_ At the end of it, Jake shrugged and Helen nodded. Whether the wand was just good enough or the very best, it would give Daria a head start on many of her classmates. If it was a dud they could get her a new one. "All right," she said.

"So how much do these wands cost?" said Helen.

"Acerca de ciento dragots," said Mrs. Gonzalez.

"In dollars?" said Helen.

"About one hundred and fifty," Mrs. Gonzalez replied. "There's also a tax. They're supposed to be registered."

"Can we buy one for her and give it to her as a surprise?" Helen asked.

"No, she has to come with you," said Mrs. Gonzalez. "Getting the right wand is difficult. It's like buying a good dress. You have to be there in person."

"So when would be a good time?" said Helen.

"This coming weekend?" said Mrs. Gonzalez.

"I think that would work, but I don't know Daria's schedule," said Helen.

"Sunday afternoon?"

Mrs. Gonzalez nodded in approval. "That should work," she said. "You can call my granddaughter Linda if it doesn't. She has a phone and I'll get the message from her."

-(((O-O)))—

Daria came home that evening, worn out and ready for bed. Jake and Helen decided that this was not the right time to tell her.

Jake and Helen hoped to give the news to her jointly, but a secretary from the office called at exactly the wrong moment. Clenching his teeth in frustration, Jake motioned to Daria to come outside with him to the back patio.

"Kiddo, Mrs. Gonzalez stopped by the other day and your Mom and I decided that it's time for you to get your own wand," he said.

Daria had tried to imagine this conversation for months and she'd been in constant fear that it would derail because of what happened with her bedroom wall.

"For real?" she said.

"For real," said Jake.

"Do we go to a store or something?" she asked.

"Your Mom and I talked it over with Mrs. Gonzalez," said Jake. "It sounds like a custom fitting. We'll have to go to the wand-maker's. Mrs. Gonzalez agreed to guide us there. Are you doing anything on Sunday afternoon?"

Daria had a flash of resentment about her parents re-arranging her schedule without telling her, but after thinking about it, she realized that she'd be free.

"I'm available," she said.

"Great!" said Jake. "I'll let Mrs. Gonzalez know."

-(((O-O)))—

Mrs. Gonzalez showed up at the Morgendorffers' front door on Sunday around one o'clock in the afternoon. She'd driven, or been driven, by a harried-looking twenty-something girl in an older pickup. She and Mrs. Gonzalez walked up to the door, said hello, and the girl introduced herself. Helen heard her name as Lisa. She stayed just long enough for a cup of coffee, then left, leaving Mrs. Gonzalez alone with the Morgendorffers. Helen said that she'd like to come, but she had some briefs to read and she needed to stay home with Quinn and Veronica.

Helen, Jake, and Daria had remained in the living room with Mrs. Gonzalez after Lisa had driven off. Finally, Mrs. Gonzalez rose from her seat, stood up, and said "It's time. Let's go!" Jake stood up too. So did Daria.

"Mrs. Gonzalez, a pleasure to see you again," said Helen. "Have fun, Jakey, Daria!"

"Be safe!"

Jakey stepped around Mrs. Gonzalez and opened the front door. "We'll use my truck," he said.

Jake had bought a medium-sized SUV after his beloved crew-cab pick-up was totaled in a wreck in Brownwood the previous year. He raced ahead and opened the front passenger door for Mrs. Gonzalez while Daria opened the door behind it for herself. He buckled up, as did Daria and Mrs. Gonzalez, started the engine, and they all set off.

"So where are we going?" asked Jake.

"My cousin lives out in the country," Mrs. Gonzalez. "It's a way from town."

Highland being comparatively small, they quickly left the city limits and rolled out into the countryside. To Jake's surprise, it didn't take them long to leave the network of US, state, and county roads he'd taken for granted since he moved to Texas and onto gravel roads that seemed only a step or two above being driveways.

They stopped at a typical sheet-metal gate of the sort that Daria knew was used to separate one pasture from another.

"Do we go through it?" said Jake.

"Yes," said Mrs. Gonzalez.

Jake got out to open the gate. He opened it, got back in the driver's seat, then drove past the gate, then stopped and got out again. He'd learned enough about ranch protocols to know that people driving through pasture gates should not only open gates but close them behind them. He did this several times.

Jake was lost. He had a good sense of direction, even back at that hell-hole of a military academy, but he'd already had trouble guessing where he was even before he left the pavement and turned onto a dirt track. Jake turned down one bumpy road and then another. After passing through an open gate, taking care to make sure that it remained opened, he turned to Mrs. Gonzalez.

"How much further?" he asked.

"The next turn," said Mrs. Gonzalez.

Jake made a right turn, crossed over a cattle guard, and found himself on a driveway leading to an old stone house with a cistern. The house had several wooden outbuildings: one that looked like a gardening shed, another that had the look of a garage, and a third that could be another garage or possibly a workshop.

"We're here," said Mrs. Gonzalez. Jake gratefully put the SUV in Park and gave a sigh of relief. The three of them got out of the truck and walked up to the front door, Mrs. Gonzalez leading the way. She walked up to the doorway, flicked her wand, and something rang like a doorbell.

Daria heard several voices inside chattering away in Spanish, then an older man opened the door.

Mrs. Gonzalez and the older man exchanged greetings in Spanish, briefly conversed, then gestured towards Jake and Daria.

"This is Eusebio Sandoz," said Mrs. Gonzalez. "He's the wandmaker."

Eusebio Sandoz was an old man beginning to stoop as the years beat down on him. Daria thought that he looked real old; Jake guessed that he must be in his vigorous eighties. He peered at the Morgendorffers through his thick glasses, said something in Spanish to Mrs. Gonzalez, gesturing at Jake.

"He says that he doesn't think that you're a wizard," Mrs. Gonzalez translated.

"_Well, you've got that right, Pops,"_ thought Jake.

"No," said Jake. "No es mi." _I think I said that right,_ he thought. It had been years since Spanish class at Buxton Ridge and even living in Texas hadn't done anything to give him anything even remotely close to fluency.

Mr. Sandoz gave him a smile, then looked at the eleven year-old auburn-haired girl with an appraising eye. "So the señorita is the witch?" he said.

Mr. Sandoz must be a native Spanish-speaker. Jake heard the last word as hueech.

Jake smiled and gave a nod. "Si," said Jake. "Es mi hija." Mrs. Gonzalez fired off what sounded like a couple of paragraphs of Spanish. Jake recognized words here and there but he didn't understand what she said.

"Ven conmigo," said Eusebio.

Mr. Sandoz's "showroom" so to speak was the further outbuilding, a wooden garage about 120 feet away from the main house. that looked like it didn't match either his house or his other outbuilding. He opened the side door, then motioned for them to follow.

Mr. Sandoz's "show room" was less of a show-room than a work-shop.

Mr. Sandoz motioned with a wand and a couple of ceiling blinds rolled back, revealing skylights. He then gestured at what looked something like a very old-fashioned radio and Jake heard a sports announcer describing a baseball game.

"He likes his baseball," said Mrs. Gonzalez.

He gestured for Jake to take a seat and for Daria to stand over to one side, then said something to Mrs. Gonzalez, who translated.

"He asked which arm is your wand arm," she said.

"I write with my right hand," said Daria.

Mr. Sandoz nodded, then picked up a tape measure. and started taking Daria's measurements. He then gestured with his own right arm, held it out straight, then said something to Mrs. Gonzalez.

Mr. Sandoz nodded, then picked up a tape measure. Holding the tape measure, he then gestured with his own right arm, held it out straight, then said something in Spanish to Mrs. Gonzalez. "He wants you to hold out your right arm," she said.

Daria extended her right arm, wondering why Mr. Sandoz wanted to measure it. He took his tape measure, then measured the distance from her finger to her shoulder, then from extended wrist to her shoulder, from wrist to elbow, knee to armpit, then measured the top of her head. Jake watched him like a hawk. After measuring the top of Daria's head, Mr. Sandoz nodded, satisfied, then went to a set of shelves and began pulling down long, thin boxes.

Setting the boxes on the counter, Mr. Sandoz picked up his wand and with a flick, raised the garage door.

"En esta dirección. You point the wand that way," he said, pointing at the driveway. [Alt+162]

Jake moved his chair over to the side of his daughter. Jake had already retreated behind his daughter. He'd already seen a couple of people from the get-togethers at Los Girasoles use their wands. Wands might not be firearms, but years of training at Buxton Ridge Military Academy had taught him that firearms were dangerous and he decided to give the business end of a witch's wand the same healthy respect he'd given to Buxton Ridge's Garands.

Daria picked up the first wand and pointed it out the front and flicked it. Some red sparks fizzled, but nothing else happened.

"No," said Señor Sandoz. Daria set the first wand down and picked up another one.

Daria tried the second wand. Something shot out of that wand and blew a hole in an empty steel barrel Mr. Sandoz had left across the driveway.

"No," said Mr. Sandoz.

"This one, maybe," said Señor Sandoz.

Mr. Sandoz went back and brought out more boxes.

"Una señorita dificil," he said to Mrs. Gonzalez. Mr. Gonzalez smiled and shook her head.

Daria tried more wands. They didn't work. After a while she started feeling embarrassed. She'd tried more than a dozen wands at this point and wondered if they were going to find anything that suited her.

She was reminded of her second dance recital. She'd worked so long and tried so hard to put on a good performance, only to slip and land on her face. No fault of her own. They'd waxed the floor and Mrs. Crush had ignored the danger.

"Prueba con este," said Eusebio.

He handed the wand to Mrs. Gonzalez, who looked at Daria and gave the frustrated and embarrassed girl a smile and a shrug.

Mr. Sandoz had set his radio or whatever on low volume. Still, Daria could hear the faint sounds of somebody's stadium organ playing in the background.

"He says this one is made from Mesquite and has a core of conejo—something gut," said Mrs. Gonzalez. Mr. Sandoz gestured with his hands, imitating horns or antlers.

Daria knew that the Spanish word for jack-rabbit was "conejo."

"Oh, con cuernos?" she said. "A jackelope?"

"Si," said Mr. Sandoz.

Mr. Sandoz nodded and chuckled as the serious-minded girl gestured about her head with her hands.

Jake smiled too. He'd seen the jackelope postcards for sale at a couple of Highland five-and-dimes and had assumed that they were mythical creatures. It was nice to learn that they actually existed.

The organ music worked up to a crescendo.

Daria flicked the wand. The Jackelope wand didn't work either.

Mr. Sandoz smiled and said something else that Jake didn't catch, although he heard "dificil," and "estamos cerca."

Mrs. Gonzalez smiled and nodded, saying something to Mr. Sandoz in response.

"Uno mas. One more and then we should take a break, Hokay?" said Mrs. Gonzalez.

"OK," said Daria, feeling dispirited.

Mrs. Gonzalez handed her another wand. Daria took it by its handle. This wand was different. She felt a sudden warmth in her fingers. Heartened by the wand's feel and the sense of what must be magic flowing through it, she raised the wand above her head, brought it down through the late afternoon air and a stream of blue and silvery sparks shot through the end like a Roman candle.

It was like playing with sparklers during the Fourth or July, only more so. When Daria had handled her first sparklers, she could only pretend to feel the magic moving from her hand and fingers to the blazing sparkler. This time, Daria could actually feel the power moving through her and the wand she was holding.

Mrs. Gonzalez whooped and clapped. Eusebio clapped and shouted "Bueno! Muy bien, señorita!"

Daria lowered the wand, awed at what she'd just done, and smiled.

Jake just looked astonished. Jake just stared open-mouthed at what just happened.

Eusebio said something in Spanish to Mrs. Gonzalez that Jake didn't catch.

"He says that it's the wand that chooses the witch, not the witch who chooses the wand," said Mrs. Gonzalez.

"So what is it made of?" Jake said unexpectedly.

Mr. Sandoz said something in Spanish. Mrs. Gonzalez translated.

"He said that the wood is mesquite, but the core is from a Thunderbird feather," said Mrs. Gonzalez.

Jake was awed. He'd been surprised to learn that Thunderbirds were real, not just legends or a brand-name for automobiles. He'd never seen one or even any part of one, and here was Kiddo with a wand made with one.

"You like it, Kiddo?" he said to Daria.

"I love it," Daria replied with a smile.

Jake fished bills out of his wallet. The price was about what Mrs. Gonzalez said it would be. Mr. Sandoz wrote him a receipt.

"You'll have to get it registered," said Mrs. Gonzalez.

That would come later. But for now, Kiddo had a wand of her own.

_Made in Texas by Texans_, thought Jake with a smirk.


	9. Daria Turns Eleven

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Daria Turns Eleven

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this work of fiction. I am writing for my own pleasure and ego satisfaction.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Daria had never thought that an eleventh birthday would ever be important. But it was, at least in the magical world. She was now old enough to attend Ilvermorny and Hogwarts might or might not send her their acceptance letter. In any event, so far as she knew, it was going to be the last birthday she'd celebrate in Highland for a long, long time. Next year she'd either be at Ilvermorny or, less likely, at Hogwarts.

She'd started making plans for her birthday even before the end of March. She'd turn eleven on the ninth, and despite the fact that she and many of her friends were still considered quite young by grown-up standards, she was learning that they also made plans or had plans made for them days, weeks, and months in advance.

She'd made and sent out her invitations and had been disappointed by her responses. Gloria and Betsy had sent her notes telling her that they weren't going to be able to come but they would be sending her their best wishes. Betsy was now in high school and Gloria would be a freshman next year. Despite the fact that she was only turning eleven, she'd already become aware that high school was way different from primary school: the classes were tougher, high school students could choose some of their classes, and sports were way more important than they had been. Also, most girls started hanging out with boys or even dating them, a thought that made Daria scowl.

She left her room with her list of invitations and a frown, went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of ice tea, then sat down at the breakfast table. Her Mom was already seated reading legal documents. She saw her daughter's expression and said "What's the matter, Sweetie?"

"My party," said Daria. "I'm afraid that nobody is going to come."

"Why is that?" said Helen.

"I've already gotten responses from Betsy and Gloria," said Daria. "They said that they weren't going to be able to make it. They've made other plans." She sighed. "I'm afraid that nobody else is going to show up either."

"I'm sure that some of your friends will be there, Daria," said Helen.

"I'm not," said Daria. "It's high school and boys."

Helen put down her paperwork and looked thoughtful. "I see," she said.

"Daria, Sweetie," said Helen. "You know that most of your friends are older than you."

"And?" said Daria.

"Just as you're going through a lot of changes this year, they're going through a lot of changes, too," said Helen.

"They're becoming teenagers," growled Daria.

Helen was non-plussed. This was not something she expected Daria to say.

She paused for a moment and went on. "Yes, they are," she said. "And they feel awkward, too, both about being teenagers and about their relationships with their younger friends. They're busy trying to fit into their new roles and they're having trouble trying to fit their new ages, and sometimes they neglect their younger friends."

"It's not fair," Daria replied.

"I'm not saying it's fair," said Helen. "I'm not saying it's right, and I'm certainly not saying it's anything you deserve. I'm just saying that it is."

"What should I do, then?" said Daria. "Cut them off? Pretend that we were never friends?"

"No, Sweetie," said Helen. "I'm saying that you should try to understand that they're in an awkward space, that they don't know how to act, and that they're sometimes going to hurt you without meaning to."

"So I should just roll with it?" said Daria. "Should I just be a doormat?"

"No, Sweetie," said Helen. "I'm not saying that. I'm saying that you ought to remember that they're in an awkward space too and that this friction is going to fade as you all get older."

"You make it sound so easy," Daria said accusingly.

"I'm not saying that it's easy," said Helen. "I'm saying that it is, and that you should leave yourself some space to forgive them, if not today, then sometime up the line. You'll get older and those differences won't matter so much."

"So what do I do in the meantime?" said Daria.

"Well, don't write them out of your life and work on inviting people who will be able to come to your party," said Helen. "I bet some of the kids at your Potions class would love to come to your birthday party."

-(((O-O)))—

Daria's party was actually held on the 7th, two days before her birthday. Her invitation was eagerly accepted by most of the Potions class. It was a good party. The first arrivals were magical kids. Helen quietly buttonholed them and reminded them that not all of Daria's friends were magical and that they should keep any magic under the table and out of sight. Most of the guests were Daria's magical friends, although Farrah and Gail did stop by, as did Mona Abrams. Daria thought she'd done a good job at hiding her magical gear and her modest magical library, mostly by flipping the magical books on the shelves around so that their spines faced inward. A second trip by the hall bathroom did find a couple of pamphlets about Ilvermorny lying on the floor, causing Daria to cross her fingers and hope that Farrah and Gail had missed them.

If either Farrah, Gail, or Mona had found the pamphlets, they said nothing. They saw who could whack the piñata and, to Daria's amusement, Farrah was the first to actually hit it. They also stayed around to watch Daria blow out the candles on her birthday cake and to sing "Happy Birthday." The cake was chocolate and tasted very good. Helen had bought it in Midland the day before and it survived the drive and overnight without going stale.

Gail did ask Daria if she was worried about any bad luck happening the next year since she was celebrating her birthday early.

"I'm not worried," Daria replied with more reassurance than she actually felt. "Besides, if there's any bad luck, I'm putting it on layaway."

The party broke up in mid-afternoon; this being Highland and Highland's magical community keeping a low profile, most of the magical children's' parents used automobiles and drove their children home. Raven and Joe Don helped with the leftover problem—both Raven and Joe Don said that they'd like to snack on some of it later. In truth, neither Raven nor Joe Don were too sure about their parents' schedules and their evening dinners might be very late if they got fed at all.

Daria's evening was spent quietly. She'd helped her mom clean up after the party, Daria wondering if there were any magical spells for housework and how she'd go about learning them. Quinn had returned home from an afternoon out with friends, and the Morgendorffers spent the latter part of the evening watching a movie on the Old Movie Channel.

-(((O-O)))—

Daria's actual birthday was on Monday, a school day. Unlike the previous weekend, nobody at James Ferguson noticed or cared that she was a birthday girl. It was a little hard coming down from the emotional high she'd had the previous weekend, but if she felt blue, she didn't crash and burn.

The last school bell rang, marking the end of the day. Daria stopped by her locker, digging out the books and notes she'd need for her homework and dropping off stuff she could leave overnight. She stood up and prepared to walk outside. _Thank God there weren't going to be many more days,_ she thought. _One way or another, I'll be out of here._

Her Dad was there to pick her up at the school entrance. Quinn wouldn't be riding with them; she was going to visit a friend and the friend's mom was going to pick them up. Daria got in the front seat, buckled up, and sat back to enjoy the short ride to daycare where they'd pick up Ronnie.

"Do you think that Hogwarts is ever going to write me?" asked Daria.

"Kiddo, I suspect that Hogwarts School is a bust," said Jake. "If they were going to send you a letter, they would have written by now." _Jerks_, he thought. _They don't know what they're missing_.

He secretly hoped that they didn't. He knew that Daria would have to go off to boarding school, but Jake hoped that she'd stay with Ilvermorny. He and Helen had long ago decided that they'd spent enough time in the Oil Patch and both wanted to move back East. Helen was already putting out feelers. If Daria was at Ilvermorny and they were living in one of the mid-Atlantic states, they could see her more often.

He pulled into the daycare center's driveway. Ronnie was out in front with Miss Miller, one of the care-givers. That was unusual: the June Bug was usually out there by herself. Miss Miller did not look happy.

He stepped out of the car. "Hey, June Bug!" he called.

"Hey, Dad!" said Ronnie. "Hey, Daria!"

"Hello, Miss Miller," said Jake. "How's it hanging?"

"I'm fine," said Miss Miller, "but your daughter was playing Kid Commando again."

That made Daria sit up and take notice. Something had clicked in her youngest sister's brain this last year and she'd started exploring and taking more risks. Despite Helen's and Jake's admonitions to stay in the back yard, Ronnie had not only started prowling the cul-de-sac where they lived but had expanded her range of exploration to the eastern side of River Run Road. So far she hadn't crossed the street, but Daria suspected that that was only a matter of time.

"I'll talk to her," said Jake.

Daria put aside the book she was reading and opened the rear door for her sister. Ronnie got in and Daria closed the door behind her.

"Click it or ticket!" said Jake after Daria got back in the car.

"And if we get ticketed, it'll come out of your allowance," Daria added.

Ronnie blew her a raspberry as a response.

"June Bug," said Jake. "You've got to learn to be more careful."

"OK," said Ronnie. Daria did a double-take. Was Ronnie serious or was she just saying the right words so she'd continue as she darn well pleased?

It was a short drive to the cul-de-sac where they lived. Jake turned left off of River Run Road, turned into the driveway, then parked. They all walked up to the front door. Jake unlocked it, and they all went inside. Ronnie zoomed past the front entrance to her room.

There was an untidy pile of letters, bills, catalogs, and junk mail lying on the floor behind the mail slot. "Hey, the mail's here!" said Jake. He moved to pick it up, but his cell phone started ringing.

"Sorry," he said. "Kiddo, could you get it for me?" He clicked the button so he could take his call. Daria bent over to pick up the mail.

Daria went through the mail. She quickly sorted out the catalogs: most were for her parents, but Quinn had gotten a couple. There was also some junk mail from charities asking for money. There were even a couple of post cards, including one Stacy Rowe had sent to Quinn. There was also one that stood out. It was taller than the others and it felt strange. It also had a wax seal on the back, a purple one with a coat of arms bearing a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H. _That letter hadn't been in the hands of the US Postal service, not with the wax seal on the back,_ she thought.

She turned it over. It bore no stamp or postmark and it was addressed to her in elegant green ink

_Miss Daria Morgendorffer_  
_The Small Children's' Bedroom_  
_16 River Run Cove_  
_Highland, Texas_  
_USA_

It looked like the letter she'd been expecting. It looked like a Hogwarts letter. She decided to risk opening it herself.

It was. She started reading.

"_Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

_Dear Miss Morgendorffer,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Terms begin on September 1. We expect your response no later than July 31__st__._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall  
_Deputy Headmistress"

Jake had finished his phone call when she finished skimming through the list of books and supplies. Daria caught his eye after he lowered the cell phone from his ear.

"What is it. Smidget?" he said.

"Dad, it came," she said, holding up the Hogwarts letter.


	10. Break-In

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl Break-In

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I don't claim to own either franchise or deserve any financial compensation for this work of fiction.

Advisory: This Chapter rated "T" for foul language.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl * Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl * Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Two weeks after Daria's birthday, Jake and Helen finally found a renter for their old house on Whirlwind Drive. The house had sat empty since the previous renters did a midnight flit after falling behind in their rent for a couple of months, then selling their refrigerator and dishwasher before they disappeared.

It wasn't that Jake and Helen hadn't had offers from would-be renters since then—they had. But neither Jake nor Helen wanted unreliable short-term renters: they wanted reliable, solid long-term renters with stable incomes who would remain put for at least a year and preferably longer.

Mr. Dysart, their property manager, had contacted Jake and told him that he'd found likely a likely candidate, a recent transfer who worked for the oil company that owned the oil refinery on the eastern edge of town and who wanted a house and yard for his wife and children. Mr. Dysart told Jake and Helen that he thought that Jarred Waugh looked like good prospects, and that he thought they'd do.

Jake decided that he'd use a Saturday afternoon to go over to the old house and see what might need to be done before the Waughs could move in. Daria decided to go with him.

Her visits to the old house no longer seemed as strange as they had before. Yes, it had been her old house. Yes, she'd had a lot of memories there. Yes, she still missed the Wises and Mr. Hawley, even though the Wises had moved to Plano and Mr. Hawley remained there. But she'd stopped thinking of it as her house. She lived on River Run Cove, not Whirlwind Drive.

They turned onto Whirlwind Drive, drove down a couple of blocks, pulled into the driveway and parked. Both of them got out.

Mr. Hawley, their former next-door neighbor, had been keeping an eye on their old house's exterior. Spring had caught on in that part of the Permian Basin, and the grass had turned green again. Mr. Hawley was mowing the grass next door, and Daria could hear his lawnmower. "Let's go visit Hawley and see how things are going," said Jake.

Mr. Hawley was hale and hearty and so was Digger, despite his age. Digger wagged his tail to see Jake and Daria. Jake and Mr. Hawley exchanged small talk and Jake told Mr. Hawley that Daria would be going away to school next fall. Mr. Hawley wished her good luck, and sent his best wishes to Helen, Quinn, and Veronica.

Jake asked him about the house. "Everything looks good on the outside and nobody has tried to break in. Jake sighed with relief.

Jake and Helen had keys to the old house, and Jake used his to open the door. The house looked much the same as the last time he'd checked. No signs of plumbing leaks, no sign of a leaky roof, and nobody had broken in since the last time they'd checked. A little scrubbing, another inspection, and the Waughs could move right in.

-((O-O))—

Daria had had another change in her life since her birthday. A new ghost had taken interest in her and was following her around. His name was Asmodeus Sackl; he had been born in Bohemia in the mid-nineteenth century. He had been a wizard in his lifetime and he'd died of an accidental gunshot wound in Odessa over a century before; the Mundie in the next hotel room had been cleaning his pistol and it fired, penetrating the wall and Herr Sackl. Hover the decades following his death, he'd been bored with Odessa and Midland, then made his way eastwards once he'd learned about the magical community centered around Highland. Once he discovered that Daria was a witch she couldn't shake him. (1)

"And from where did your father's family come from?" he asked.

"From Morgendorf," said Daria. "It was a village that used to be in Austria. They came over in the 1880's."

The ghost's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree after she said where her Dad's folks had come from.

"To Morgendorf I have been," he said.

"OK," Daria said dubiously, which set Herr Sackl off on a monologue, during which Daria learned that her Dad's forebears had lived in a village north of Prague and that despite the fact that it was in what was now Czechoslovakia, back in the Nineteenth century it had been a German-speaking community that had been there for centuries. Daria had to tell Herr Sackl that so far as she knew, none of her Dad's family had gone back there to visit in decades, if ever. She also learned that Herr Sackl was a sexist who disapproved of wives working outside the home and thought that Daria should set her thoughts towards learning housekeeping spells and child-rearing.

Herr Sackl's attitude set him up for a confrontation with Helen Morgendorffer. Daria told her Mom about their new visitor and Helen decided that it was time for her to step in. One evening when she heard Daria arguing with someone she opened Daria's bedroom door to find her daughter arguing with a ghostly someone wearing a mid-Victorian sack suit and said "Daria, who is this?"

For years afterwards Daria remembered Herr Sackl's doubletake as he realized that her mother could see and hear him. "Mom, this is Herr Sackl."

"I'm Helen Morgendorffer," said Helen, not waiting for Sackl to introduce himself. "I'm Daria's Mother."

Momentarily speechless, Herr Sackl responded by bowing and clicking his heels. Herr Sackl was unused to what Americans called "Wild Squibs" who could see and hear magical beings as well as wizards and witches. "Frau Morgendorffer, a privilege," he said. "It is an honor to—"

Helen glared at him. "I wish to inform you that your presence here is without my permission and that my daughter will pursue her education as she and her advisors see fit. Am I clear?"

The ghostly wizard was taken aback. It had been decades since any woman had addressed that way, even before he died.

"Yes, Ma'am," said Herr Sackl.

"And I do not appreciate your presence here or your bothering my daughters," Helen added. "If you continue, I shall contact the MACUSA." Despite the fact that Helen Morgendorffer was physically incapable of doing anything to him, Herr Sackl decided that it was best to retreat and glided through Daria's bedroom wall to escape.

Despite his rough encounter with Helen, Herr Sackl did not stay away, although he learned to be more circumspect when he visited Daria. Daria might have ignored him, except that she was learning that the wizarding world might not be as safe as she first thought it was. There were too many things about the wizarding world that she didn't know and Herr Sackl did. She resolved to grit her teeth and put up with him. Maybe she could learn things.

Herr Sackl found many aspects of Daria's magical education disappointing. He was appalled that Daria knew no charms or spells: in his opinion, she should have already been learning them. He also disapproved of the fact that Daria knew no Latin and didn't speak German. He urged her to try and learn some.

Herr Sackl also taught her charms. It was something like ballet class—Herr Sackl would first show her the motions she needed to perform the charm he was teaching and Daria would first try to imitate him, then let him guide her through the motions. Herr Sackl being dead, there was no physical contact, except when Daria missed a motion and encountered his ice-cold ghostly hand or arm.

Herr Sackl was strict but not punitive. When Daria missed a movement, he frowned, then said "We repeat," then Daria repeated her wand movements correctly.

She grew confident enough to perform several charms, then learned that drew the attention of MACUSA's social services, who complimented Daria on her spell work, then told her to cease and desist until she was in school or one of MACUSA's certified tutoring programs. Daria and Herr Sackl modified their approach and started using a dummy wand to practice wand movement. 

-((O-O))-

Daria and Jake finished their walk-through. Everything at the house on Whirlwind Drive was in order, although Jake noted the small pile of boxes they'd left in the garage after closing their mini-warehouse space. He and Daria loaded them into Jake's SUV, then returned to River Run Cove.

-(((O-O)))—

Later, when Daria was asked about life on River Run Cove, she ruefully replied that it hadn't really been all that bad. It was still too hot, it was still in Highland, and she still wanted to move, but River Run Cove was a far safer neighborhood than her old one. No gangs, no drive-bys, no drug- or alcohol-fueled freak-outs; at least nothing she could see or hear. Nothing ever happened there—until it did.

It was a Saturday afternoon. Her Dad was out on the golf course, her Mom had taken Quinn and Veronica out shopping and Daria had the house to herself. She knew that most kids her age wouldn't, but her parents recognized that she was responsible and she intended to keep them thinking that way. She'd gone around and made sure that the doors were locked and that she had her wand within arm's reach.

The doorbell rang, and a couple of minutes later Daria heard the rumble of what she guessed was a delivery truck driving away, so she guessed that someone had dropped off a package for her Mom or Dad and that she ought to bring it inside.

She unlocked and opened the door and was bowled over by a girl a little younger than Quinn, then ran inside before Daria could stop her.

"SAVE ME!" she shrieked. The girl ran into her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Daria's first thought was to expel the craziness and get the girl to leave. Her next thought was that if someone or something was chasing the girl, it was probably bigger than she was and that she couldn't handle it. She closed the front door, locked it, then headed back towards her bedroom, hoping that the girl didn't have a weapon on her.

The girl was still in her bedroom, crouching in the space at the foot of her bed.

"Excuse me," said Daria. "This is my house. What is going on here?"

"MY STEP-DAD IS TRYING TO KILL ME!" shrieked the girl.

_SHIT_, thought Daria. She didn't know how far away Step-Dad was but suspected that he was all too close.

She wished her Dad and Mom were here but they weren't. She wanted to call the police, and she would call the police, but she didn't think they'd get there in time. The next option was to get the Marshals: what with apparation, they'd get there a lot faster. But they didn't have a 911 system and would they get there in time? She doubted it.

She dialed 911. She was trying to talk to the operator when someone started pounding on the door and bellowed "OPEN UP!"

The shit had hit the fan. Her parents didn't own any guns. She wasn't about to try her chances with knives and a guy who was bigger and stronger than she was. She picked up her wand.

"Fraulein," said a familiar voice. It was Herr Sackl. Daria really hoped that he'd be able to give her some useful advice.

"Herr Sackl," said Daria.

"You looked disturbed," said Sackl.

_No kidding_, Daria thought angrily. "There's a crazy man prowling around outside and I think he's going to try to break in," she said.

"The police should come," said Herr Sackl.

"They should, but it'll take them a while to get here," said Daria. "I'm afraid that it could be too late by the time they arrive."

"The Aurors then," said Herr Sackl.

They've only come over here when I did some accidental magic and did a couple of spells," said Daria.

"But they came," said Herr Sackl.

Something clicked in Daria's brain. If the Marshals lacked a 911 system like the Mundie cops and only came when Daria was performing underage magic, doing spellwork ought to attract their attention

The girl had calmed down a little, just enough to avoid giving into hysteria. "Who is that man you're talking to?" she asked.

"Herr Sackl," said Daria. "We'll talk about it later."

The nut-case hadn't gone away. She didn't want to play the hero; she'd much rather be unseen. But she didn't think that the house had enough hiding-places and she didn't think the girl had the smarts to use them.

"OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" he yelled. 'OPEN THE DAMN DOOR _**NOW**_!"

Then he did what Daria feared he might do. He lifted the garage door and started lifting it up.

_Hanged for sheep as for goat_, thought Daria, hefting her wand. _It's showtime_. _Let's see if the Marshals or the social workers pay attention this time._ How to get their attention? She thought about the first time she'd held her wand and saw the blue and silver trail of magic emerging from the tip. Could she still do it?

She could, and a brilliant blue and silver stream of light emerged from her wand tip.

The bastard had gotten into the garage. Daria had locked the side door leading from the garage to the house after her Mom left with Quinn and Ronnie but she didn't think that it would stop the intruder for long.

She turned away from the girl. "Close the door," she told her, just as the door leading into the garage gave way.

"A charm for your room," said Herr Sackl. "Follow my lead."

Daria followed. She didn't learn the name of the spell until later, but the effect was to cause most eyes not to notice her bedroom door.

The mad-man burst through the breakfast room and kitchen and into the living room. He was disheveled, unshaven, with dirty, uncombed hair and clothes that looked like they ought to be run through the washing machine not once but twice and had a crazed expression on his face.

"WHERE IS SHE?" said the wild man.

"Who?" said Daria. Maybe she could talk him into leaving the house.

"Kendra!" said the wild man. "I saw her run in here!"

"Nobody here by that name," said Daria, backing up. "Go away."

"She's here," said the wild man. "All you witches are the same."

The wild man's statement had interesting implications but Daria had no time to deal with them. Things were about to get radical. She raised her wand, not quite pointing at the wild man, but if he moved towards her, she was going to hex him.

"Back off," said Daria.

The wild man stepped towards her.

_Shit_, thought Daria, and raised her wand. "Remember, Fraulein, it is the will and the intent," said Herr Sackl.

"BOMBARDA!" she shouted, fear and latent anger drove her spell as much as will and intent.

The force of her spell hit the wild man like a Peterbuilt highway truck running along I-20's access road, throwing him back twenty-five feet. The wild man was thrown against the far wall, knocking down pictures and decorations.

Daria demonstrated her wand movements to Professor Flitwick later that year. Professor Flitwick nodded, corrected her wand movement, then told her that the man had been lucky; she might have crushed his rib-cage and organs with her spell.

Daria didn't know that then. The wild man looked thoroughly stunned, if not unconscious. Daria didn't have time to give in to being appalled. She'd also seen too many movies where the bad guy supposedly was down then popped back up like a jack-in-the-box.

"LEVICORPUS!" she said, the wild man's body rose into the air from the floor. She'd seen _Outland_ and read the novelization afterwards and agreed with the author—bad guys had a harder time getting at you if they couldn't get on their feet. The wild man might be able to throw things at her, but he couldn't hit or choke her.

She was still staring at the bad guy when she heard the pop-popping noises of either the Marshals or some MACUSA social worker apparating into her back yard.

-(((O-O)))—

The first wizard through the door was Agent Richards, a DMLE officer she'd never met. He came through her door thinking that Daria decided to ignore previous warnings about performing underage magic, took one look at the man Daria had floating in the living room, and realized that something far more serious had happened.

He saw the shattered door to the garage and was about to repair the damage when they both heard the blip-blip noise that police cruisers made when they arrived at a crime scene with their overhead lights flashing. The Highland Police Department arriving.

"The cops are here," said Daria. Not wanting to deal with his Mundie counterparts, Agent Richards fired a stunner at the wild man, lowered him to the floor, then used a spell to make himself invisible. Daria used the time to put her wand in a drawer.

The police came in and saw the man on the ground. "He broke in," said Daria. "There's a girl in my bedroom."

-(((O-O)))—

The aftermath was messy. The police called for an ambulance to take the intruder to the hospital. Helen arrived home while the police were trying to get Daria to make a statement. The intruder was taken to the hospital, with pending charges for assault, breaking and entering.

The girl, Kendra Cooper, came out of the bedroom while the Highland policemen were questioning Daria. The police contacted social services.

If it hadn't been clear that someone had tried to break into the Morgendorffer house, Daria might have had to be questioned at the DMLE district headquarters in Abilene. As such a Marshal and Agent Richards chose to talk to her at home and found themselves not only dealing with Daria, but Helen, too. The DMLE agents left, but not before telling her that she did good, but that she also needed to learn the Stunner spell.

Daria still thought about Kendra when she went to Los Girasoles the following week. "Someone ought to keep an eye on that girl," she said. "I think she might be one of us."

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Author's notes:

(1) The former Austrian provinces of Bohemia and Moravia used to be multi-ethnic and had towns and villages of German-speaking inhabitants as well as Czechs. Both provinces became part of independent Czechoslovakia after World War One. In 1938, many of the German-speaking inhabitants co-operated with Nazi Germany to become part of the German Reich. After World War II ended, the Czech government expelled them and the names of many towns and villages were changed

(2) In the _Daria Ravenclaw_ universe, "Mundie" and "Mundane" has replaced "No-Maj" as a term to describe people who lacked magic in much of North America. "Habanero" and "Habanera" is another term, most commonly used in the Southwestern US.


	11. Not Peace But A Sword

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl Not Peace But a Sword

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I don't claim to own either franchise or deserve any financial compensation for this work of fiction.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl * Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl * Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Farrah Dagworth looked at the pamphlet again and scowled. She'd found it in the hall bathroom at Daria's house and she might have left it alone except that it was one of several identical pamphlets lying on the floor all issued by someplace called the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The title was unsettling, to say the least. "Your introduction to Ilvermorny." Farrah wasn't quite as good at literary comprehension as Daria, but she understood undertones and the differences between humor and straight narrative better than girls older than she was. This pamphlet, like the others on the floor, had depicted Ilvermorny as a real school that taught real witchcraft. _Was this a joke?_ She could imagine Daria stockpiling and handing out such pamphlet as a gag,

Doubt chewed at her. _What was Daria_ doing_ with that damn thing?_ The obvious conclusion was that it was one of Daria's weird jokes. She put it down and thought. Magic didn't exist, did it? At least not really. The pamphlets could be a put-on. She wasn't sure that it was a put-on. The pamphlets were too -well-written. The graphics were too professional. And if Daria wanted to yank anyone's chain about witchcraft, she wouldn't do it in early April; she'd wait until Halloween. So why there, why now.

She wondered why it was there. She didn't think that Daria had put them there on purpose. They looked like a stack of pamphlets that someone found or lost after rummaging around in private spaces. Someone had probably gotten them out of Daria's room.

Farrah accepted that Daria was not a Christian, at least not the sort of Christian that she was. If Daria had conventional religious beliefs at all, she seemed to be dithering between her father's Judaism and her mother's Methodism. Methodists practiced baptism like Catholics and Episcopalians, but like Baptists and other Evangelicals, mandated that Christians accepted Jesus into their hearts in order to be saved. Farrah believed that, and believed that strongly. And despite the fact that she thought very little of Nancy Carrew, Jenny Monk, and their circle of friends, she knew damn well that neither Judaism nor the forms of Christianity she knew about condoned witchcraft. Witchcraft was not a path to Jesus and eternal salvation, but a path to Hell.

Daria was her friend. She liked her. Daria had a good heart despite her sardonic sense of humor and her often-tetchy personality. But witchcraft, real witchcraft, was beyond the bounds. She and Daria were going to have a little talk.

-(((O-O)))—

She called Daria. They talked. Farrah told her about life in Junior High, about her new computer, intramural sports, and her visits to the Penricks and her other relatives. Daria told her that she'd been busy but that she really missed her. Daria had not only been busy with schoolwork but was taking a class at the Temple in Sweetwater. She did tell Farrah that she was still planning to go away to school next year, but that she wasn't going to her first choice; she'd be going to someplace in Europe instead. Farrah asked her if she wanted to get together Sunday afternoon. Daria agreed.

Farrah went through her week much as she always did. She kept up with her schoolwork, talked with her other friends and worked on her computer, but her impending showdown with Daria was seldom far from her mind. She prayed for the strength and wisdom to do and say the right things. Then her mom and dad got a phone call from their Aunt Lisa and Uncle Landen about Laura and the results of her medical tests and she felt the world drop out from under her.

Laura had cancer. Somewhere, somehow a tumor had come into existence, then started spreading to other parts of her body. Uncle Landen and Aunt Lisa said that the doctors thought that they caught it in time, but that Laura was in for rough time. She felt punch-drunk from the news.

Her mom saw her expression and said "Honey, are you all right?"

Mom, Dad, could I be excused?" said Farrah.

"Sure, honey," said her Mom. Farrah went upstairs to her room and closed the door. She sat on on her bed and took deep breaths to calm herself. It didn't do any good. Instead, she started crying.

-(((O-O)))-

Farrah's grandmother once said that trouble was sometimes like the weather: when it rained, it poured. Not only was one of her favorite cousin very ill, but one of her best friends was seriously involved in witchcraft. Farrah worried if she was soon going to have the worst of both worlds: her favorite cousin dead from cancer and her friendship with Daria seriously damaged, if not destroyed.

She didn't want to confront Daria about her Ilvermorny pamphlets. If it was something else, something short of murder, stealing, cheating, or drug-pushing, she was willing to ignore this and go on. But this looked like serious stuff, real witchcraft, and not the sort of BS that poseurs used. The calendar slowly crept towards Sunday afternoon and Farrah worried about what she'd say to Daria and how the conversation was going to go.

Sunday came. Farrah decided to do something about the rising tension and went to church in the morning. She sat down in the pew, wondered what Daria was doing right now, then prayed that she'd be able to say and do the right things to cause Daria to change direction. The prayers helped some, but not enough.

She called Daria when she got home. Mrs. Morgendorffer picked up on the second ring, making Farrah smile. She liked Mrs. Morgendorffer, but would they still be friends after she finished talking with her daughter?

Sunday afternoon came. They met at the park near the Big Spring. Daria was already there. There was a picnic table and benches off to the side and under some shade trees. They sat down there.

"Hey, Daria," said Farrah. "Good to see you, girl."

"Hey," said Daria. "Good to see you, too. Our paths don't cross that much these days. How's the exciting world of Junior High?"

"A lot like primary school, except they've got different teachers for different subjects and the coaches are already looking over guys for high school sports teams," Farrah replied.

"What about the girls?" asked Daria.

"We're ignored," Farrah replied. "At least everybody but potential cheerleaders. Camp's open over the summer. "Gloria's already put in one summer. She'll be doing it again next summer."

She decided to tease Daria. "There's a space open for you if you want to go to cheerleader camp, too," she said.

Daria was tempted to say something snarky but didn't. "Sounds like fun," she said.

"It can be," said Farrah. "The chance to get out in front of a crowd and show them what you've got."

"Unless you're trying to get an education," Daria replied.

"You can get one if you want it," said Farrah. "The library's better stocked."

"I didn't just come here to talk about junior high," Farrah said. "Laura's been to the doctors and they've run some tests."

"And what's up?" Daria said quietly.

"Cancer," said Farrah. "They've found a tumor. They think it's spreading but they've caught it in time."

_Oh bloody hell_, thought Daria, feeling afraid. _This was not good. This was not good at all_.

"They'll be starting treatment," said Farrah.

"Chemo? Radiation?" said Daria. She wanted to ask if they started in time but she didn't want to spoil things.

"Aunt Lisa and Uncle Landen didn't say. Aunt Lisa says that the docs said that she's got a fighting chance but that it'll be tough," said Farrah.

_Does she, or were the docs trying to sugar-coat bad news_, Daria wondered. In her heart of hearts she believed in fairness but she'd been losing her belief in a fair world. If it was a fair world, why did the good ones like Laura Penrick have to be the ones who got sick and die early?

"Damn," said Daria. "I'll put her on my prayer list. Do you know if I can call her?" Daria knew that she and her parents had the Penricks' phone number written around somewhere.

"I don't see why not," said Farrah. "She thinks a lot of you. She says that you're smart and that you're a good kid."

"I think a lot about her, too," said Daria. "Every now and again I tell myself that I want to be like Laura when I grow up."

Farrah looked down at the picnic table and her expression changed. "There's something else," she said, "something I wanted to talk about with you even before I learned that Laura was sick." She reached into her purse for the Ilvermorny pamphlet and put it on the table.

Farah looked at Daria to see her reaction. Her friend had a great poker face, and she could sometimes be a hard read. Not this time. Daria stared at the pamphlet a second too long, stood up straight, took a deep breath, but surprisingly said nothing. She probably knew where they came from and that they'd been in her house.

"Do you want to tell me what they were doing on the bathroom floor during your birthday party?" said Farrah.

"I don't know," Daria replied. "I had those in my dresser drawer before the party and I thought they'd stay there where nobody else could see or read them. It's not like I was planning to hand them out like party favors."

"Do you want to tell me about this Ilvermorny place?" asked Farrah.

"No," said Daria.

"Is it for real?" asked Farrah.

"A school up in the Massachusetts Berkshires, near ground zero for Puritanism since the middle 1600's teaching witchcraft?" said Daria. "Sounds like something a Hollywood script-writer would think up. I'd find it unlikely."

Farrah looked at her friend with concern. _She's changing the subject_, she thought. _Could it be that Ilvermorny exists?_

"I want to talk about it," said Farrah. "About Ilvermorny."

"I don't," Daria replied. "And I'm not going to."

"Does this witch school exist?" said Farrah.

"You found some pamphlets on the bathroom floor and jumped to a conclusion," said Daria. "you can do some remarkable things with computer graphics these days." _Even if I don't know how_, she said as a silent coda to herself.

"You can," said Farrah, "but nobody's come up with a program to make figures move on paper without a cable or a power card."

Daria's poker face hid an exclamation of _"Hellfire and damnation! She saw _**that**_ pamphlet!"_

"Daria, are you a witch?" asked Farrah.

"No comment," Daria replied, making her half-smile.

That was _not_ the response Farrah expected Daria to make. The books she'd read said that most would-be witches not only delighted in their gifts but also bragged about their new powers. It looked like Daria wasn't going to follow the script.

"You're not answering me," said Farrah. "You're evading the question."

"What do you think?" said Daria.

Farrah stared at her younger friend. Daria looked pretty much the same that she always did, a bit older now. She was going to be a teenager soon. _You're getting distracted, girl_, she told herself. She stared at her, looking for visible signs that Daria had magic. She stared at Daria for a long time. There was nothing, nothing visible that said that Daria was a witch or that she practiced magic.

She was wondering if she was not only wasting her time but slandering her friend when a horrible thought appeared and blossomed in her brain. She had a brief flash of Daria in a real witch's costume, and another od Daria holding a wand like the characters in some of those children's books. _My God, she_ is _a witch_.

"You _are_ a witch, aren't you?" she said.

Daria said nothing. Farrah realized that this was all the answer she was going to get.

"Daria, I want to tell you something," she said. "If you are fooling around with witchcraft, I'm asking you to stop. It's dangerous and I believe that it will end up destroying you. Burn your books, snap your wand if you have one, and get on the right track. You're heading for a life of trouble."

Farrah saw Daria's face fall. "No," Daria replied.

She took a breath and went on. "Farrah, I'm doing this because it's something I need to do, not for shits and giggles. I'm going away to school because I have these—abilities—whether I want them or not."

"Really?" said Farrah. "Since when? Did you discover that you had them after you read about them in some book? Did you go looking for them?" Farrah knew that Daria had a streak of curiosity. Did it get the better of her?

"No, I didn't go looking for them," said Daria. "This is a part of me and has been most of my life. I had it a long time before I met you. I need to learn to get it under control so I don't endanger my friends and family."

"If you have them, the easiest way to keep your friends and family safe is to just stop doing them," said Farrah.

"It doesn't work that way," said Daria. "It takes training."

"I still think you ought to stop," said Farrah. "You're heading for a life of trouble."

"And I'm heading for a life of trouble if I don't," Daria replied.

"It's going to cost you," said Farrah.

"Yeah," said Daria. "At least seven years away from regular school and at least a couple of years of catch-up after I graduate. This is going to be a pain in the butt."

"It's going to cost you a lot more," said Farrah. "I'm talking about your soul and your eternal salvation. I think you ought to give it up and turn to God."

"I can almost wish that it worked that way, but it doesn't," said Daria. "And I'm not going to put my family and friends at risk on the basis of your theory."

"Put down the books, snap the wand, get a new set of friends," said Farrah. "Your soul's at stake."

"No," said Daria.

Farrah saw Daria's expression. It's one she seldom saw: the look she made when she dug in her heels and wasn't going to budge. Both girls looked at each other. Neither girl said anything. Daria was the first to break the silence.

"I know where you're coming from, and I appreciate your concern, but I'm not," she said.

"I mean it," said Farrah.

"I know you do," said Daria. "And you said it without slathering around BS while you did it. I appreciate that. A lot."

Daria looked at her friend and felt tears forming at the edges of her eyelids. "I don't think we're going to come to agreement," she said. "If we keep going, we won't be talking to each other, we'll be talking past each other."

"I don't want anything to do with what you're up to," said Farrah.

"I don't want you to try," said Daria. "It's for your own good. It's not safe."

"Damn it, Morgendorffer!" said Farrah. "I'm a big girl and can take care of myself."

_In the Mundane world,_ Daria thought but didn't say. _But not where I'm headed. _She felt awful. She'd been friends with Farrah for a long time and magic was killing their friendship.

Both girls made a decision to stop. If they said any more, it would escalate to harsh, hateful words and one of them or both of them would say something horrible that they couldn't take back.

"Take care of yourself," said Daria. It came out more sarcastic than she wanted it to. _Did you say that because you meant it or were you trying to be sarcastic_, said a voice in her head. She didn't want to answer.

"Yeah," said Farrah. "Call me if you change your mind. I gotta go." She walked over to her bicycle, mounted it, and began pedaling away.

Daria stayed on the bench, staring at the tree-line at the other side of field edging the picnic tables.

"Shit," she said.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl * Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl * Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Author's notes: For the record, neither Farrah Dagworth nor Laura Penrick are witches. Nor are they what I've called "Wild Squibs," people in the Daria Ravenclaw universe who have canon Squib-like talents but who are born to Squib or non-magical parents.

Also, Farrah and Laura are descended from Hector Dagworth-Granger, the famous British potioner who wrote Most Potente Potions, a book Hermione Granger consulted in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

For those readers wondering about my chapter title, consult The Book of Matthew, Chapter 10, verse 34.


	12. Highland Shorts Summer 1990

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl. Chapter 12 Highland Shorts

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise, nor do I deserve any sort of financial reward for this work of fiction. This work of fiction was written for entertainment purposes only.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Rodeo

Daria did not want to go to the rodeo. She and Farrah still weren't speaking to each other and the last place that she wanted to be was someplace that reminded her of her former friend. The rodeo made her think of Farrah, of their ruptured friendship, and of Laura Penrick. She wanted nothing to do with it and she would have stayed away if she could. However, the Gonzalez family and the Benavides had family participating this year, and despite the fact that she didn't see herself as a rah-rah girl for anybody, she decided that it was probably politic to go. A not-so-subtle nudge from her Mother helped her make up her mind.

"Daria, I know you're not close to the Gonzalezes or the Benavideses, but they've gone out of their way to befriend you and they know most of your secrets," said Helen. "I think you ought to go. Besides, you might have fun in spite of yourself."

Daria grumpily agreed and Lisa Huerta came by on Friday evening to pick up Daria. They'd met before when Lisa had dropped off her grandmother to guide Daria and Jake over to Mr. Sandoz's so she could buy her wand. They found a parking space in the middle lot near the arena, got out, went up to the ticket booth, and entered the rodeo grounds.

The walk to the arena was physically much the same as it had been when Daria came to the Rodeo with Farrah and Mr. Skein. Daria saw the outbuilding which held the animals for the livestock competition. She wondered how Laura was doing and if she was there. She doubted it, and stuck close to Lisa.

Lisa walked over to where her family was sitting and, not surprisingly, most of the Latino students from Daria's potion class were seated there along with the rest of their families.

The Rodeo started much the same as it did in previous years: with a parade around the Arena, cowgirls dressed in glamorous costumes galloping around on horseback with US and Texas flags, the singing of the national anthem, and a prayer by one of the local ministers. Someone had gotten the Methodist minister from West Camp to do the honors.

Evian Gonzalez was the first member of the extended Gonzalez—Benavides clan to ride out into the arena. He had gone out for steer roping. He and his partner dashed out on horseback, managed to rope the steer with both ropes, threw it to the ground, and took second place, to the cheers and applause of his family and friends.

One of the Benavides girls, Lourdes, had gone out for barrel racing. She was trying to break out from Howard County into the regional competition. The Benavides, the Gonzalezes and those Ocampos stood up and cheered as Lourdes trotted out and began circling the barrels. Lourdes gave it her best shot but only scored 18.5 seconds, taking third place in this evening's competition.

To her bemusement, Daria stayed put for the rest of the barrel-racing competition, even cheering and applauding when it looked like some cowgirl hopeful galloped back to the gate to try to make the shortest time. One of the other riders had a surname that Daria thought she'd heard before: one of Laura's cousins, she wondered?

When it came time for the Calf Pull, Daria got up and walked to the concession area. The Calf Pull made her think too much about Farrah and she didn't want any reminders. She didn't think that Farrah would be here tonight: tonight had a Mexican-American theme and the evening's concert was a tribute band playing old Norteño favorites, a genre that neither she nor Farrah liked. In spite of that, she thought she saw a familiar form and hair style and ducked behind a rack of souvenir tees so she wouldn't be seen.

Her round of the vendors' stalls was quicker than usual. She had already found out that Hogwarts students wore uniforms and that she'd as likely as not be wearing one until Christmas, wherever she'd spend it.

Another round of vendor's tables to go before she reached the food vendors' stands, she thought. This row mostly had service organizations like Friends of the Rodeo, the Cowboy Heritage Association, and the Future Farmers of America. She slowed down to look over the FFA's table then stopped. A jar with a photograph caught her attention.

The photograph was of Laura Penrick, taken in happier times. There was an information sheet saying that Laura had been a member of the FFA for years, that she was ill, and that the local FFA was raising money to help with her medical expenses. The jar was about a quarter full; most of the bills were ones and fives. Daria could give more than that. Grandma Barksdale had sent her $200 in cash along with a note telling her to buy something nice. She still had it in her purse.

Daria thought about Farrah and the fact that she only knew Laura because she was Farrah's cousin—otherwise they'd never have met. She was still on the outs with Farrah, but not with Laura.

_Damnit, she's my friend too_, she thought. _I'm not going to let my quarrel with Farrah get in the way._ She opened her purse and fished for the bills. So much for bling this year, she thought sardonically. She took the bills, folded them in half, then dropped them through the slot someone had cut in the middle of the jar lid.

The woman working the table saw Daria push the bills through the slot. "Thank you, honey," she said, then did a double-take when she saw the denominations. "Excuse me, but do you want a tax receipt?" she said. "Who do I say gave them?"

"Daria, just Daria," said Daria. "The rest doesn't matter."

She turned away and walked to the refreshment stand to buy herself a soda and some tacos.

-(((O-O)))—

Graduation

James Ferguson Elementary held a graduation ceremony for its sixth-graders in June. Daria's class was the first class to participate. Daria thought the very idea was stupid: how dumb did you have to be not to pass sixth grade? She donned her blue gown, gritted her teeth at the prayer, listened to Principal Trimble's insipid speech, and pretended to sing the stupid graduation song some idiot had composed. She walked up on stage like she was supposed to, took her diploma, a rolled-up sheet of thick white paper, rejoined the rest of her classmates and thanked God it was over.

-(((O-O)))—

The Birds and the Bees

"Daria, I think you ought to take this class before you go," said Helen. "Let's get it out of the way now before things get really hectic." _"Ought to"_ sounded too much like _"you will"_ to Daria, but she acquiesced.

On Monday evening she found herself seated on a plastic chair in a non-descript classroom at a family planning clinic. Someone had written Welcome to Sexual Education on the board with a marker pen.

An older girl, maybe thirteen or fourteen, took a seat and looked at her. "Aren't you a little young to be taking this class?" she asked.

"This is Highland," she replied. "I'm probably not."

-(((O-O)))—

Veronica's Fifth Birthday Party

Veronica turned five a week or so later. Mom threw a birthday party for her, just like she had for both Daria and Quinn.

Ronnie's friends swarmed the living room and Daria had a revelation: the June Bug was getting to be a big girl. Not only was her youngest sister growing up, but that she didn't know who even half these kids were.

Ronnie's friends overran the living room and spilled out onto the patio and into the back yard even with her mother's and her friend's supervision, and Ronnie entertained and played games with vigor, the way she'd started doing sometime while Daria wasn't taking notice.

_Has she always been this way_, Daria wondered, _or did she come into her own sometime during the last year and a half?_ She was embarrassed to say that she couldn't answer.

One of Ronnie's friends, a girl Daria was certain that she didn't know, looked at her, then turned to Ronnie and said "Who's she?".

"That's my big sister Daria," Ronnie replied. "She's cool."

Daria's heart filled with pride at her sister's response.

-(((O-O)))-

Clothing the Schoolgirl

Despite the fact that it was only mid-June, Helen Morgendorffer realized that she and Daria would get to work if Daria expected to have a complete set of Hogwarts uniforms ready for school in September. Fortunately, the list of school suppliers also contained the name and address of the firm that supplied Hogwarts' school uniforms, and the list provided telephone numbers and a postal address complete with postal codes for those parents lacking access to owl mail. Daria would still have to buy her robes and hat in Britain, but she could order the rest of her uniform by mail from Britain.

Helen had heard that the British magical community was particularly resistant to adopting the tools and techniques of telecommunication adopted by the non-magical world since the mid-nineteenth century. There was only one way to find out if the uniform supplier had decided to move with the times: she awoke early one weekday morning and made a trans-Atlantic telephone call to see whether or not the telephone number listed on the form worked and if they indeed still dealt with Hogwarts. She gave a sigh of relief when the woman at the other end of the line said that they indeed dealt with Hogwarts, and that they had an American affiliate who could handle Helen's order.

It was all Helen could do to avoid jumping up in the air and whooping with joy. She called the affiliate from work and learned to her considerable relief that they had fax machines and took credit cards. All Helen would have to do is send them Daria's measurements and they would order and tailor a uniform for her daughter. Helen could then either pay by credit card over the phone or use a money order deliverable either by owl or the US Postal Service.

The affiliate sent them a Hogwarts uniform order form. Helen then made an appointment with a dress-maker in Midland and had them take her daughter's measurements. The seamstress clucked her tongue as she took Daria's measurements. "You haven't reached puberty yet, have you, Miss?"

"No, Ma'am," Daria replied.

"Well, that blouse and jacket you're ordering might be a little tight when you do," said the seamstress.

Daria swallowed. Puberty was not something she wanted to think about, particularly having it hit while she was away from home.

Measurements in hand, Daria and her Mom filled out the order form, Helen proof-reading before sending the form back to affiliate in Springfield. Daria grumbled about all the fuss and bother.

"Well, it's not something you can order off the rack, Sweetie," Helen replied. "That's the way they do things. It would be a bigger hassle if we had to order direct from Britain."

Helen sent them the completed form, along with her credit card information the next day. They sent a return reply by fax an hour later. After that there was little to do except wait.

Daria's uniform arrived four weeks later. It was in a handsome charcoal gray and both Helen and Jake thought Daria looked very attractive in it. Her necktie was basic black, showing the Hogwarts crest Daria had trouble knotting the necktie and Jake promised to show her how to do it properly.

Daria secretly approved of her outfit but wondered if the shade of gray might be a little too dark?

-(((O-O)))—

Author's Notes: Readers might be interested as to why Daria Ravenclaw: The Highland Years and this sequel have so many Mexican-American characters. Well, it's partially due to the fact that most of the witches and wizards in the Highland (Real-life Big Spring, Texas) and Howard County are Latinos. Also, during the last several decades, more of the residents of Howard County and other parts of South and West Texas are Latinos, as often by not, if not more so, through birth rather than migration. In this respect this fiction follows real life.

Some readers might wonder about the whereabouts of Beavis and Butthead. They're still at James Ferguson Elementary School. Unlike this AU Daria, who jumped a grade, the boys still have to complete sixth grade before they're passed on to Middle School. And no, the boys AREN'T wizards.

About Daria's mail-order Hogwarts uniform: I used the first Harry Potter movie as a template for the school uniform Hogwarts students wear under their cloaks. Yes, somebody goofed up when assembling Daria's uniform.


	13. Laura At Bay

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter Thirteen: Laura at Bay

DISCLAIMER: Daria was created by Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter was created by JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither and neither expect nor deserve any financial compensation for this work of fiction.

Nice reviews are adequate recompense.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

"_Farrah still hasn't called or written me,"_ Daria wrote in her journal. _"I'm still feeling miserable. It's not just that I've had a falling-out with Farrah, but I don't know if I can still talk to Mr. Skein and I feel cut off from Laura and the Penricks. I still like Laura. I miss seeing and talking with her and I worry about how she's doing with the cancer."_

She looked at her journal and scowled. This probably wasn't her best writing but it was where she was now and it was the truth, at least mostly.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Anna, the sitter her Mom and Dad had gotten to watch them while they were at work. She was one of Mrs. Aldrete's cousins; her mom and dad learned that one of the side-benefits of knowing people in Highland's wizarding community was finding reliable baby-sitters.

"Daria, there's a Mrs. Penrick on the phone," she said. "She wants to talk to you."

"Thanks," said Daria. "Tell her I'm coming," She got up from her desk and followed Anna out to the phone in the living room. Anna picked up the phone, said "She's coming," then handed it to Daria.

"Hello?" she said.

"Daria," said Mrs. Penrick. "It's good to hear your voice. We haven't seen or heard from you in ages."

"What's up?" said Daria

"Laura asked for you," said Mrs. Penrick. "She heard from Farrah that you girls aren't speaking to each other. Is that true?"

"Yes, Ma'am," said Daria.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Mrs. Penrick. "You girls were such good friends. You ought to remain friends."

"I'd like to," said Daria, "but we're at stalemate."

"Laura wants to see you," said Mrs. Penrick.

"I want to see her too," said Daria. "I miss her."

"Where is she?"

"She's at the hospital," said Mrs. Penrick. "She's going through chemo right now."

"I'd like to see her if they'd let me see her," said Daria. She'd heard that some hospitals had age restrictions or wouldn't let unaccompanied minors visit hospitals. "Do you know if they have bicycle racks?" She could pedal to the hospital, but she'd have to follow US 87, which was a dangerous route for anyone on a bicycle. She wouldn't do it for anyone, but she'd do it for Laura.

"That won't be necessary," said Mrs. Penrick. "I can drive you there.

"Are you free during the day?"

"Most days," said Daria. "My sisters and I are staying at home right now but we do have a sitter."

"I can take you to the hospital if your parents give their permission," said Mrs. Penrick.

"Thank you, ma'am, I'd love to see her," said Daria.

-(((O-O)))—

Daria told her parents about Mrs. Penrick's offer after they got home. To her relief, her Mom gave her approval.

"Daria, that's sweet of you!" said Helen. "I'd be glad to give you permission to go. Let me talk to Mrs. Penrick first."

She picked up her cordless phone and called the Penricks' number.

"Could I speak to Lisa Penrick?" she said.

"This is Helen Morgendorffer. I'm Daria's mother."

"Yes it is," she said.

"Hello again," she said.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said.

"Daria told me that your daughter is in the hospital," she said.

"She is?" said Helen.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry to hear that," said Helen. "Daria said that she enjoyed her visits to your ranch and thinks very highly of Laura."

"She really did," said Helen. "She tends to be sparing of compliments but she did say that."

"I wanted to let you know that Jake and I are giving her permission to go there and for you to drive her there," said Helen.

Mrs. Penrick came by around 10:00 and drove her to the hospital. Daria had clean clothes, but the hospital wanted to make sure that she didn't pass on anything to patients with weakened immune systems. They made her wash her hands, then put on a surgical mask.

Laura was up when Daria entered the room. Daria was shocked at her appearance. Laura was pale and looked gaunt. She'd lost a lot of her hair to the treatment. Seeing her made Daria sad and angry.

"Hey, girl! So they let you in after all," said Laura. "Even if they made you wear a mask after all."

"They figured me out," said Daria. "They decided that I was a bad influence."

Laura gave her a smile. "They got that right," she said. Despite her condition, Laura hadn't lost her sense of humor.

"So how do I look?" asked Laura.

She looked terrible. Her hair had fallen out and she'd lost a lot of weight. _Was she going to get out of there alive?_ Daria worried that she wasn't and decided to avoid that topic if she could.

"I've seen you on better days," said Daria.

Laura smiled. "Dry wit. That's what I like about your humor, Daria."

"So what's this between you and Farrah?"

What to tell her? Daria decided to fudge the truth.

"Farrah doesn't like the school I'm going to go to," said Daria.

Laura looked at her skeptically. She'd heard what Farrah had to say. She raised an eyebrow as if to say "Is that all?".

Daria blushed, simultaneously wishing she could do something like that.

"There's more stuff," said Daria. "I wouldn't do any head-in-the-clouds New-Agey stuff if I didn't think it was necessary, and that's all I really want to say about it."

Laura let that pass.

"I'm still on the outs with Farrah but I miss her," said Daria.

"So what are you doing these days?" asked Laura.

"Reading," said Daria. "Writing, archery. I go swimming occasionally. I've taken up container gardening and have managed to keep some flowers and herbs alive. I also hang with my other friends, although I still miss Laura."

"That's good," said Laura. She looked at Daria and sighed. "Daria, I get tired easily, so you don't mind if I talk with my Mom for a while?"

"Sure," said Daria, not fully understanding. She rose and went out into the hallway.

Mrs. Penrick came out of Laura's room about fifteen minutes later.

"Thank you for coming," she said. "Laura's tired and she's resting. It's the treatment; it takes a lot out of her. She needs to rest for a couple of hours. She'll be awake late this afternoon."

"I need to run some errands. Do you want me to take you home?"

"Sure," said Daria.

She opened her journal again and wrote "_It's not fair. It's not Effing fair!_"

-(((O-O)))—

Mrs. Penrick invited Daria to visit Farrah again a week or so later.

This time Daria had things to tell her.

"I finally got to Balmorhea State Park," she said.

"Good for you!" said Laura. "I've been there several times and I love it. Is the water still cold?"

"It still is," said Daria. "I'm not sure if I would have gotten in if the Aldrete twins hadn't pushed me in. My teeth were chattering until I got used to it."

Laura smiled. "But you stayed in. That proves you're a West Texas girl no matter what anyone else says."

"Thanks, I think," Daria replied.

"So how's the TV?"

"Dumb," said Laura. "Somebody showed a western documentary on the public channel and he didn't know his ass from his elbow."

Mrs. Penrick made a reproving look at her daughter.

"Sorry, Mom," said Laura.

"And is the food as bad as I've heard?" said Daria.

"Yep," Laura said quietly.

Neither girl said anything. They sat there companionably, enjoying each other's company.

There was a knock on the door and a girl stepped in.

"What are _you_ doing here?" said a familiar voice. It was Farrah. She looked good: tanned, healthy, just the way Daria expected.

"Hi," Daria replied.

"Laura asked her to come by," said Mrs. Penrick. "I drove her over here."

"Hey," said Laura. "Nice to see you."

"Nice to see you too," said Farrah.

"I know you guys are mad at each other," said Laura. "I don't want to hear it."

Farrah looked at Daria. Daria made a gesture like she was zipping her lip and nodded. They still were at odds but neither girl wanted to act out in front of Laura and Mrs. Penrick.

Farrah talked a bit about cheerleading camp, then added "I hope they let you out of here soon."

"Me, too," said Laura, glancing at her mother. "This place stinks."

"The Docs say that they'll let me come home after the treatments. They think they got it all."

"Good!" Farrah and Daria chorused. The two girls looked at each other and smiled. They might still be at odds but both of them deeply cared about Laura.

-(((O-O)))—

Daria made two more visits to the hospital. Her last one was in mid-August.

"I'm getting ready to go off to school in a week or so," Daria said quietly. "I don't know how much Farrah and Gail have told you."

"It doesn't really matter," said Laura. "It's your life."

That wasn't the answer Daria expected. "Thanks," she replied.

"You don't care that I'm off to Bonnie Scotland?" said Daria.

"I want you to go," said Laura. "I can see it. You're meant for bigger things than Howard County."

"Thanks," said Daria.

"Daria," she said.

"What?" said Daria.

"You've got nothing to be ashamed of for being from here," said Laura. "Be tough. Stand up for yourself. Think. Listen, but don't back down when you're right. And don't do them unless it's necessary."

"And think of me," she added.

"I will," said Daria.

-(((O-O)))—

Author's note: I WILL get Daria to Hogwarts. I still have some setting-up to do.


	14. Arcturus Schemes

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl Chapter 14: Arcturus Schemes

DISCLAIMER: Daria was created by Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise. I also neither expect nor deserve any sort of financial compensation for this work of fiction.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

"A Slytherin without his plotting is like an old Muggle without her knitting. They become restless, irritable, and discontented." That was one of Grandmother Em's favorite sayings. Martha Haddaway had heard it before her first year at Hogwarts and had found it amusing, not that she'd had much to do with wizards or witches from the House of the Serpent at school or afterwards.

Martha Haddaway did not consider herself to be anything special; in truth, she thought of herself to be an ordinary witch from an ordinary wizarding family. Her forebears had mostly been magical for three generations, although there had been some Muggles and Squibs in her family tree. Her parents were neither as spectacularly wealthy as the families of the Sacred Twenty Eight nor so destitute that they lived from meal to meal—both of her parents worked for a living and she expected to do likewise.

The Wizarding War was still going on when she went away to Hogwarts as a first-year. Her family hadn't been affected, although both of her parents and her older siblings had lost friends. It was only later that she realized why her parents were so eager to put her on the train for school: Hogwarts was a fortress and she'd be safe there. Voldemort died on All Hallows that and the school erupted into celebration. Muggleborn, half-bloods, and even Purebloods had shouted and danced with joy. She'd been so giddy with relief that she ignored those students who weren't celebrating.

The rest of her Hogwarts years were far less eventful. She learned the ways of magic: charms, transfiguration, and potion-making. She'd made friends and a few enemies and found it all very exciting. It was only after she came home after her seventh year that she realized how calm and peaceful her school years were compared to those of older students.

Martha did find work after she left school. Her first full-time job was working for a firm that made magical trunks and valises. It was a low-paying, low-status job but it was money she'd made on her own and she was proud of that.

She'd had her first serious love affair while she was working there: Jeremy Dickinson, a Muggle-born wizard born to well-to-do parents, encountered her while she was on Diagon Alley. One thing led to another and they had an affair that lasted the better part of two years. Her affair taught her a lot about Muggles and the Muggle world: the Dickinsons were intelligent, articulate, and sophisticated, at least about Muggle culture, and she was constantly bombarded with different customs and different ways of seeing the world. She loved Jeremy and tried to adapt, but she couldn't. The Dickinsons were kind and understanding, but as her affair with their son went on, she felt more and more like the country mouse dealing with the fancy folk. Finally it was too much for her and their romance broke up in tears.

She had her second affair two years later, to Renly Cairns. Renly Cairns was a wizard two years older than she with a background much like hers: mixed-blooded, some means, but neither poor not wealthy. For a while she was convinced that he was the one and they'd begun to take the steps to change their relationship from a romance to an engagement: meeting each other's families, bringing their friends together, talking of marriage, talking about where and how they'd live after they wed, and even the sort of ceremony they'd have when they got married. They'd exchanged rings, told their friends that they were betrothed, then their romance fell apart when she discovered that Renly had been cheating on her: not once, not twice, not even with the same woman, but with several different partners and one or two men.

Her finances took a turn for the worse while she was being courted. She'd left her old job while she and Renly were courting and had to find new employment. Despite the fact that the Wizarding War had been over for nearly a decade, she was unable to find employment in Britain's wizarding world. As one job offer after another failed to gain her employment, she'd grown desperate enough to seek work in the Muggle world. It was there that she learned a horrible truth: that despite seven years of Hogwarts, she was poorly-educated by Muggle standards and knew little about the ways the larger society did things. She'd been thinking of taking evening classes to bring her formal education up to minimum Muggle standards and wondering how to pay for them when grandmother Astarte sent her a letter by owl.

Even back at Hogwarts Martha had known that her grandmother was having an affair with someone. She'd heard whispers and titters about Gram A. and her lover, although she had no idea as to who Gram's lover might be, although she'd surmised that he was someone from a wealthy old family.

It was a shock to learn that Grandmother Astarte's love was none other than Arcturus Black. The head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black not only possessed far more status than the Haddaways, but it was far wealthier even than the Dickinsons. The Blacks were also notorious for dark magic and for supporting the Dark Lord. The elder Blacks had made no secret of their support for the Dark Lord, Regulus Black had died for the cause, one Black daughter had married Lucius Malfoy while another had married Rodolphus LeStrange. At the end of the war both Sirius Black and Bellatrix Black Lestrange were in Azkaban.

The other Haddaways secretly feared that Grandmother Astarte's affair with Arcturus Black would cause her to turn towards the darkness. It didn't: despite Gram A's relations with Arcturus Black and the Black family's reputation, Gram A. remained much the same as she was before she took up with the old wizard, at least according to Mother and her aunts. So far as she could tell, Lord Black was good to Gram Astarte. Gram Astarte seemed to be happy and so far as she knew, he treated her well.

She wondered what Arcturus Black was like. How did he look? How did he speak? Was he as wicked as tabloids like the _Quibbler_ said he was? Gram A. knew, but she kept her own counsel. Martha doubted that she would ever learn. The most she thought she'd be likely to be able to do was to read Witch Weekly and the gossip columns in _The Daily Prophet_ and hope that there would be some mention of his doings. She doubted that she'd ever meet him, then one evening Grandmother Astarte asked her if she'd like to have dinner with her and Lord Black.

They met at a restaurant a week or two before the Summer Solstice. Hogwarts was still in session and Diagon Alley wasn't overrun with families celebrating the end of term with their offspring. Martha arrived by herself and wondered where her grandmother and her lover were seated. She was intercepted by the maître' d and was told that that Lord Black and her grandmother had already arrived. She wondered if they'd have dinner in the main dining room. They didn't: instead they had a room upstairs.

Lord Black met and confounded her expectations. He was a distinguished-looking, aristocratic man who looked to be in his sixties (although he was actually in his late eighties) He wore a stylish wizarding cloak over a stylish well-tailored suit that would not look out of place among the Dickinsons' circles.

Conversation at the dinner table did not go the way she thought it would. Martha had thought that they would talk about Gram's relations with Arcturus, but the conversation was more about her. Arcturus asked her about her home life, her relations with Gram A, her experiences at Hogwarts, and her life after she graduated. He found the details of her adventures with the Dickinsons interesting and commiserated with her that her relationship with Jeremy hadn't worked out. He didn't condemn the Dickinsons as vermin like she thought: instead he told her that she and they lived in very different worlds.

It was then that she was emboldened enough to ask him what he thought of Muggles. He replied that he'd come to believe that while he thought that Muggles were generally weak and blind to the larger world, he no longer held them in contempt. "They're different," he said. "I don't believe that we ought to marry with them—we're too different. But I no longer believe that they're vermin."

Gram A. did not remain silent. She and Lord Black discussed some of their travels abroad. Martha thought they'd both been adventurous, not only did they use portkeys but sometimes they flew on Muggle aircraft. Gram demurred that she didn't like Muggle airliners: too cramped, too crowded, and too uncomfortable, even in First Class. She and Lord Black preferred to fly on chartered private jets when they could. The dinner ended and Lord Black told her that they must dine again sometime. It was then that she suspected that Lord Black was recruiting her for some sort of job.

-(((O-O)))—

Their second dinner was at Lord Black's townhouse. She'd thought that his place would be in some old and distinguished mansion that had been in the family's possession for centuries but it wasn't. Instead, they ate at a beautiful, airy high-rise apartment overlooking the city of London. Martha had difficulty believing that this apartment was Arcturus' home. This place was too modern and looked too Muggle.

"Excuse me, Sir, but isn't this the family townhouse?" Martha asked diffidently.

"No, it's not," Arcturus replied. "This is my own place. One day I decided that I couldn't stand the townhouse, so I gifted it to my daughter and her husband and moved out. This is my own place. I like this much better." Martha could see why. With the exception of certain paintings and old furniture, Black's house made her think of an eagle's eyrie set on some high cliff overlooking some green valley below.

Dinner was excellent. Lord Black had managed to hide several house elves within his home and the food and service was excellent. Over the course of dinner, he talked more of his own travels over the years, then asked her about hers. She'd traveled some with Jeremy, but little before and after she'd taken up with Renly. He then asked her about her ability to travel the way that Muggles did and about her knowledge of financial transactions in the Muggle World. Martha replied that Jeremy had taught her how to hail cabs and pay fares, how to pay for and ride Muggle trains and buses, and the theory behind credit cards. She'd seen Jeremy use credit cards but was unsure of the processes for obtaining and using them. After dinner, Lord Black invited her to play a game: he asked her to pretend that she was a Muggle and how she would go about booking an airline flight and how she would travel to and from a commercial airport. She wondered if he was trying to humiliate her, but Gram A. watched their play with amusement, even to interject with suggestions.

She had wondered why throughout dinner why Lord Black had invited her back. She didn't think that she was that interesting. She'd wondered about his reasons again when he smiled, put his hand on her arm, and said "I wonder if you'd be interested in performing a service for me." he said.

"Beg pardon, sir," said Martha. "What sort of service?" She took a deep breath. She hoped it wasn't anything dark or dangerous. Despite his pleasant manner, the Blacks did have that sort of reputation.

"I would like you to escort a Muggleborn and her parents from Heathrow to their hotel, and from thence to Diagon Alley," said Lord Black.

"Your pardon, sir," said Martha. "But why do you ask me? Wouldn't someone else be more suitable?"

"I need someone with discretion, someone with family ties," he said. "If I were to greet these people myself, I'd be noticed. it would be too public, and word would spread from the Channel to Land's End by nightfall."

She wondered why Lord Black would want _her_ to do this and not, say, her grandmother. He answered her question before she could voice it. "The same holds with Astarte; more than a few Purebloods and other people know that she's my mistress. So do gossip mongers like that Skeeter woman."

Martha blushed. One of her guilty pleasures was reading Rita Skeeter's column about the doings of Wizarding high society and wizarding celebrities. She hadn't thought of Gram A. being a subject for Rita's column before. She found the thought disturbing.

"But why me?" she asked.

"You are obscure. You're reasonably clever, and you wouldn't fall to pieces in Muggle circumstances. Most things considered, it's unlikely that anyone would associate you with me."

"Is there anything special about the parents or the girl?" Martha asked. 

"The girl has been admitted to Hogwarts," said Arcturus. "She'll be a first year and she'll need some showing around." 

"Isn't this the sort of thing that a Hogwarts professor does, take new Muggle-borns to the alley and show them around?" said Martha. She'd had a couple of Muggleborn roommates at Hogwarts and remembered them telling her how amazing they found their first introduction to the wizarding world. 

"It is, but it's something I'd rather not have done," he said. "And as for the girl's parents, the girl's mother is what Americans call a Wild Squib, although the father has no magic to speak of." Martha knew of those sorts of Squibs. Born to non-magical parents, like their wizard-born counterparts, they could sense magic and see into the magical world, but they lacked the ability to become wizards and witches. 

"Both parents have been introduced to some of the witches and wizards who live in their community, but they know nothing of our ways and customs here in Britain." 

"I'd be interested," said Martha, "but I remember that Muggle transport costs money and I don't have that much." 

"I'd pay you a stipend," said Lord Black. 

This sounded fascinating. "I'll do it," she said. 

Both Arcturus and Gram A. smiled at her. 

"Excellent," said Lord Black. 

"So when would I start?" she asked. 

"I wouldn't have need of your services until the last week of August," said Lord Black. "But since you aren't as familiar with Muggle travel arrangements as a travel agent or a travel guide would be, I would ask you to spend time familiarizing yourself wit Muggle transport. Ride trains and buses, hail taxi cabs, travel to the international airports, that sort of thing."

_This was so exciting_, thought Martha. She felt a bit apprehensive at trying something so daring, but she looked forward to starting. 

-(((O-O)))— 

Highland, Texas  
Summer, 1990 

Back at Casa Morgendorffer, Jake and Helen were working on their travel plans.

"Jake, I'd like to review our travel plans with Daria sometime before the last week of August," said Helen after they'd turned in for the evening.

"I wish we could just pick a time to discuss them at home, but Princess throws a fit every time Daria or somebody else brings up Hogwarts," Jake replied. "We spend so much time dealing with her fits that we can't sit down and discuss things with Daria."

"I know, Jakey," said Helen. "But Quinn doesn't really understand."

"I know," Jake sighed. "She has to go away to get her Mojo under control."

"What we need is some evening when Quinn goes out with her friends and we're all here at home," said Helen.

"What worries me is when are we going to get it," said Jake. "We're all busy and we don't know Quinn's schedule from day to day."

"Let's sleep on it," said Helen. She preferred to be pro-active rather than reactive, but she was too tired to start planning this evening. Helen and Jake put the problem on the back-burner and turned off the lights.

The next morning Quinn got a phone call at the breakfast table. "Hey Mom, Ray Ann invited me over for a slumber party tomorrow night. Can I go?" said Quinn.

Helen and Jake looked at each other and smiled. This would make things so much easier. If Quinn was at her friend's house she wouldn't be able to let her jealousy interfere with their discussing their London travel plans with Daria.

"Sure, Sweetie," said Helen. "You can go."

"Thanks, Mom!" said Quinn.

"Can I go out too?" asked Daria.

"No," said Helen.

"Too bad, Daria," said Quinn. Daria responded by sticking her tongue out.

"Girls," Helen said mildly. Ronnie watched her older sisters' byplay and giggled.

Helen caught Daria's eye. "Daria, can I speak to you outside?" she said.

Daria nodded. Helen rose from her seat, then Daria did likewise. Helen opened the sliding door to the back porch and stepped outside. Daria followed, then slid the door closed behind her.

"We have things to discuss about your trip and Tuesday night would be a good time to discuss them," said Helen.

"Oh," said Daria. Quinn was jealous of Daria's Hogwarts invitation. Quinn's green-eyed monster rose and occasionally rampaged whenever Hogwarts came up. If Mom and Dad let Quinn spend the night at the Forsters', she wouldn't be there. No scenes, unless she made them beforehand.

_Slick_, she thought.

Ray Ann and Mrs. Forster came by early Tuesday evening to pick up Quinn. Mrs. Forster and Ray Ann came in to say Hello and to help Quinn carry her stuff to the Forsters' car. Daria decided to play the role of the straight woman, and resisted her desire to needle her younger sister.

"Have a nice evening, girls!" cried Helen. She waited until Mrs. Forster had driven away with Quinn, then went back inside.

"Daria, we didn't make you stay home out of spite," said Helen. "Your father and I have things to discuss with you."

"About the trip," said Daria.

"That's right," said Helen.

"All right," Daria said with a note of resignation.

Helen walked over to Jake's chair, where Jake was watching the sports channel, picked up the remote and turned off the television. "Jake, it's time," she said. Jake rose from his seat and followed Helen and Daria over to the breakfast room table where they sat down.

Ronnie chose not to join them; she was seated on the floor in the living room playing with Legos, although Daria suspected that her younger sister was quietly listening in.

"Daria, the reason we kept you home this evening is because we need to discuss your travel arrangements," said Helen.

"As you know, we'll be leaving Highland several days before your school starts. We have tickets to fly to New York, then catch a connecting flight to Heathrow."

Daria nodded. She already knew about that part.

"We're going to have someone greet us at Heathrow, then accompany us into London," said Helen.

"OK," said Daria.

"Then our guide will help us check into our hotel," Helen continued. Daria wondered why Mom and Dad would need a guide to get from the airport to the hotel. They'd traveled enough that they could probably do that themselves.

"Then the guide will take us to Diagon Alley," said Helen. "That's the main shopping district for Magical Britain." Daria had heard of Diagon Alley. She wasn't exactly sure where it was, but she knew that it It was in London and hidden away from the rest of the city and that Mundies couldn't find it without help.

"They have a bank there and someone to help you with expenses and your tuition and board," said Helen. "After we've exchanged enough, we can see about getting those parts of your wardrobe and school supplies that you weren't able to get here."

Daria already knew that the British wizarding community didn't use Pounds Sterling like the rest of Britain, but used a currency of their own with coins called knuts, sickles, and galleons.

"We'll see about completing your wardrobe first, then the rest of your supplies," Helen completed.

"What then?" asked Daria.

"Well, after we get those things taken care of, we'll have a few days to play tourist until your train leaves for Hogwarts on September 1st," Helen said smugly.

"Cool," said Daria.


	15. And She's Off!

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. And She'd Off! 

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise and neither expect nor deserve any financial gain for this work of fiction. 

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl 

Jake got the message on his cellphone while out on a sales call.

"Jake, our travel plans have just been modified," said Helen's voice. She sounded angry yet resigned. "Judge Binkley insists that the Gormley case goes to trial on the 28th. I told Mr. Scales that I needed to be in London before the 30th and asked if someone else could handle the case but he won't budge. I've shouted, I've sworn, but I can't get away."

"There's a chance that I might be able to get away on the 31st if the other side settles, but that's up in the air. I'm stuck in Midland. You and Daria are going to have to set off before me. I'll try to catch up if I can. I'm sorry about this mess."

"I love you."

Jake listened to his wife's message and said "Damnit!". He hit the replay key again to make sure he'd heard Helen's message. He did, then swore again. 

-(((O-O)))- 

Daria finished packing on Monday evening. She'd had help from her Mom and from Jake. They'd helped her write a checklist beforehand, Daria used it to make sure that everything she was supposed to have packed was packed, except for her toiletries.

She made sure that she said good night to her sisters and to her Mom that evening. She ad her Dad were going to be leaving very early and she didn't know whether they'd be awake when she and her Dad would leave the house.

She kissed her Mom goodnight and said goodnight to both Quinn and Veronica. Despite the fact that she wasn't a huggy person she exchanged hugs with both of her sisters.

"See you guys in June if I don't see you before then," she said.

"Whatever," said Quinn. Quinn was still jealous about Daria going to Hogwarts.

"I'll miss you, Daria!" said Veronica. "June is like forever."

She went to bed and despite the tension and anticipation, she fell asleep in minutes. 

-(((O-O)))— 

She awoke to her Dad gently shaking her shoulder. 

"Hunh? What is it?" Daria said sleepily.

"Daria," said Jake. "It's time to wake up."

Jake left Daria's bedroom when he was sure that she was going to get up and not go back to sleep. There was no slight or sound from his other girls' bedroom. He'd have thought that Quinn would have roused herself enough to say good-bye to Daria for the last time for nearly ten months.

He'd set the coffee-maker on a timer so he'd have some caffeine in his system before he and Daria set off for D-FW Airport, then went back to the bathroom in the master suite to shower, shave, and get dressed.

Daria took a quick shower, then got dressed. She'd be wearing a blouse and jeans instead of her Hogwarts uniform. She'd only worn her uniform once, and that was for a photo shoot that Mrs. Benavides made for parents sending children off to school and hopefully for publication in Tex Arcana. She'd roasted in her woolen clothing.; she wasn't about to start wearing her school uniform until she had to.

Daria had thought that Mom would stay asleep until when she usually woke up. But no, she'd gotten up early and was there in the kitchen when she came in for breakfast.

"Good morning, Sweetie," said Helen.

"Good morning, Mom," said Daria.

"All ready to go?" asked Helen.

"I'm as ready as I'm likely to be," said Daria.

"Did you say goodbye to Quinn?" asked Helen.

"I tried to," said Daria, "but I couldn't wake her up. She's still asleep."

"Ronnie's still sleeping too," said Helen. "I'll tell her goodbye for you."

Ronnie walked into the kitchen that moment, sleepy but awake. "Good morning, Mom," said Veronica. "What time is it?"

She looked at her older sister and saw that she was dressed. "You're going to school now?" she said.

"Yeah," said Daria.

"Yes, I'm off to school," said Daria. She squatted so she could look Veronica in the eye. "And I'd like you to take care of Mom and Dad and Quinn while I'm away," she said. "I'll be back in late June."

"OK," said Ronnie. She started tearing up. "I'll miss you, Daria."

"I'll miss you, too, Ronnie," said Daria. They hugged again. Hugs meant a lot to Ronnie, and Daria wanted to make sure that she had some before she and Dad hit the road.

"Could you say goodbye to Quinn, too?" said Daria. "I tried to say goodbye to her but she never really woke up."

"I'll tell her," said Helen. "Come here. I want a hug, too."

She hugged and kissed her daughter. "Have a good trip, Sweetie," said Helen. "I love you and I hope to catch up with you before you get on the school train. If not, have a good time in Scotland and be safe."

Jake finished a second cup of coffee, kissed Helen good bye, then he and Daria loaded their luggage into his SUV's back, then got in.

"OK, kiddo," he said. "Passports, keys, airline tickets, wallets, money?"

"Check, check, check, check, check," said Daria. She also had a student visa; she made sure she had that.

They were all set.

"WAND?" Daria had a moment of panic. Did she remember to pack her wand? She thought she put it in her suitcase but she needed to be SURE it was there."

"Dad, could you stop the truck?" said Daria. "I need to make sure that I packed my wand."

"Good idea," said Jake. "Let's make sure."

He opened the drive side door, Daria opened the passenger side door and they walked around to the back of Jake's SUV. After opening the tail gate, Daria unzipped her suitcase and felt around to see if it was there. Her fingers felt the unmistakable form of her wand and she let out a sigh of relief. She hadn't screwed up. She'd packed it.

"It's here, Dad," she said. "We can go." Jake closed the hatch, they both walked back to the front and got in. Jake started the truck, then carefully drove onto River Run Cove, then turned right on River Run Road. They were off.

There was little to see this early in the morning as they drove through the darkness. Most of the neighbors were sleeping. They reached the intersection where River Run Road met US Highway 87, waited for the stop light to turn green, then turned north towards Interstate 20. The stoplight was red when Jake reached the intersection where US 87 crossed Interstate 20's eastbound access road. Jake slowed down to a stop. The light changed to green, then Jake turned right. He entered the eastbound on-ramp and started driving towards D—FW Airport.

It was still dark when they drove through Abilene. The sun had risen above the horizon by the time they reached Ranger. They briefly stopped there to refuel and to take potty breaks. The bathroom smelled; Daria hoped that the ones at Hogwarts would be cleaner.

As they got closer to Fort Worth, there were more and more cars and trucks and the traffic got heavier and heavier. Still, they were moving forward, and both Daria and Jake were confident that they'd make their 2:00 flight to London Heathrow. Then traffic slowed to a stop on Loop 820.

Daria's heart sank. This was horrible. There they were, stuck in a traffic jam, and Daria would have bet even money, at least if she had enough money to bet, that they were going to miss their flight and her connection to Hogwarts. She looked around and saw cars and trucks boxing them into their space in a middle lane.

"Damnit!" said Jake. There was little to do except gnash his teeth. He turned on the radio. The news station had several features about the President's diplomatic maneuvers to get Saddam Hussein to withdraw from Kuwait and his commencement of an arms build-up in Saudi Arabia. Jake changed the channel several times, passing up a couple of channels of insipid country and western, a channel playing grunge, three religious channels where the preachers were confidently announcing the coming of the End Times, and finally settled on a sports channel.

There was a large tractor-trailer stopped in front of them, with a notice on the back with a telephone number and an invitation to call it if he didn't like its driving. Jake was tempted to call it, but it would be a waste of time. The trucker was as stuck in traffic as he was.

Suddenly, there was movement. The big truck ahead of them started up, blowing a cloud of black smoke in their direction, then drove 200 feet before coming to a stand-still again as the traffic stoppage reformed ahead of it. Daria looked out the front window. The scenery had changed slightly. There was now a tall metal light pole set in the median ahead and to the left of them. Daria looked up the pole and saw a falcon perched on its arm watching the cars stalled in traffic and the antics of their human drivers.

Traffic started moving again and they began to head east from Fort Worth into the northern mid-cities suburbs. D—FW was out there somewhere to the left, although Daria wasn't sure exactly where it was or which exit they were supposed to take.

Traffic was now flowing smoothly if not swiftly, and both Daria and Jake could not only see what was in front of them but also above them. Daria saw a brightly-painted jet slowly descend over the freeway, its landing gear extended, and flew over the freeway. It didn't seem all that big from where she and her Dad were, but the airport had to be somewhere close by, even if they couldn't see it yet.

An exit sign confirmed Dari's deduction. "Here it is," she said. "DFW next exit!" Jake took the exit and turned right onto the road leading to the airport.

Their next problem would be finding a parking place, thought Jake. He planned on using a long-term parking space, driving back to Highland when he or he and Helen returned from London.

He wondered where he could fine one. Kiddo had eyes and attention to spare. "See, there's a sign for a long-term parking lot!" she said.

"Good job, kiddo!" Jake exclaimed, and made his way to the parking lot entrance.

Daria thought that their luck in finding a parking place would be as miserable their luck in finding a speedy way to D—FW Airport through the Dallas—Fort Worth freeway system. But no, there was a gap between a pair of parked cars a couple of rows beyond the entrance. At least it looked like a gap. She hoped that the gap wasn't occupied by someone's motorcycle.

"Hey, Dad," said Daria. "See that car over there? It looks like somebody's leaving."

Jake managed to pull into the space just as a silver BMW turned the corner in hope of filling the same spot. "Shiver me timbers!" said Daria with a smile. "We got it!" The Beamer drove by, its driver shooting a scowl at them _en passant_.

The schools might act like Summer was ending, but as far as Daria were concerned, they were full of it. It was still late August and it was still brutally hot when they got out of the car with their suitcases and carry-on bags.

They made their way to a shelter to await the arrival of a shuttle to take them to their terminal. A shuttle bus appeared after both Jake and Daria had started sweating.

"How many people?" asked the shuttle bus driver.

"Two," Jake replied.

The shuttle had other passengers. There was a dumpy old woman sitting in one of the other seats. "So where are you going?" asked the old biddy.

"My daughter is going off to school in Scotland," said Jake.

"I say that's a waste of money," said the biddy.

"I don't see the need for any fancy schooling for girls," she pronounced. "The wife should stay at the house and take care of the children."

Daria scowled at her. _Pay me a quarter and I'd turn you into a frog_, she thought darkly. _Maybe I'll know enough magic to do just that when I come back in June._

Jake left the old biddy alone. The shuttle bus filled up with passengers, including a college girl wearing a tank top with a bare midriff and skin-tight pants. The biddy scowled in disapproval. The shuttle bus arrived at the right terminal, Jake and Daria got their large suitcases over to the ticket counter, and set about checking in. The ticket agent peered over the counter and looked at Daria.

They'd cut it really close; they had less than an hour before their flight was due to take off. "Are we going to miss our flight?" Jake asked.

"Your flight has been delayed about an hour with mechanical problems," said the ticket agent. "It's still at the gate. You ought to make it with no problems."

They passed through security and walked up to their gate. Over decade later, Daria marveled at how casual airport security had been in those days. The plane hadn't started boarding yet, and her flight's fellow passengers were still sitting around on benches waiting to board. Daria saw that a lot of them were men and women in uniform.

Whoever-it-was must have set their airplane's problems to rights and their flight started boarding. Daria and Jake gratefully rose from their seats and got in line to board.

Daria and Jake were in the third group to board. The cabin attendants welcomed them aboard and Jake and Daria made their way to their seats. Daria was disappointed with hers; she'd gotten an aisle seat. She really wanted to sit by the window and see the landscape far below her.

The cabin doors were closed, the overhead luggage bins were shut, and the big jet pushed back from the departure gate. The cabin crew had made the safety presentation, then told her and the other passengers to sit back and relax. New York was about three hours away. Daria supposed that they were off—at least if their plane ever got around to taking off.

Daria wondered if there were any other witches and wizards aboard this flight, then doubted it. Most witches and wizards used the floo system to get around the Continental US and Canada, resorting to air travel only to cross salt water.

There were a lot of soldiers on this flight. Their camouflage looked brown and sandy. Daria had no idea as to where they were going but guessed that this had something to do with the US military build-up in Saudi Arabia after the Iraqis invaded Kuwait. She put that thought aside and started reading a traveler's book about the British wizarding community that had been reprinted. Daria wondered how useful it would be: the work was dated, going back to the early 1960's. She wondered how much of it was still accurate.

They did not take off immediately. There was a queue of passenger jets waiting for access to the runways and they'd have to wait. Daria sat in her seat and silently grumbled, trying her best not to show her impatience. Every now and again a jet either took off or got out of the way and their airliner would move forward and then stop. Daria wondered if they'd ever get off the ground.

Their jet moved forward again, but instead of braking to a stop, it turned and then began rolling down the runway, the plane moving faster and faster and faster, the engines roaring louder and louder and louder until finally Daria felt the jet lift into the air.

"We're off, kiddo!" said Jake.

After about an hour, the pilot turned off the Seat Belts sign and passengers began to rise from their seats, some simply to stretch, others to get things out of their carry-on luggage, others to got to the restroom. An older man in in a desert-style camouflage uniform passed them on his way to the restroom. After a while he came out, then stopped in front of Daria's and Jake's row. His mouth opened in surprise.

"God God, it's Shaky Jakey!" said the man.

Daria saw her father flinch. 

-(((O-O)))-


	16. In Flight

Daria Ravenclaw The Year of the Owl. In Flight

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise. The author states that he is writing for his own amusement and neither expects nor deserves any sort of financial compensation for this work of fiction. 

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl 

Jake flinched. He then placed his hands on the arm rests of his seat and took two deep breaths.

"Hi—Ed," he said.

"Nice to see you," said Ed. He was smiling. "Been a while since the Ridge."

_Not long enough_, thought Jake, breathing in and exhaling another deep breath.

"That it has," Jake replied.

"What are you doing these days?" said Ed. Daria thought that this Ed guy seemed friendly, not hostile. He also wasn't playing the false-friendly bullying games she'd seen played back at Highland, either. Still, having gone through some bullying herself, she could understand why her Dad wasn't being friendly.

"Being a civilian," Jake replied. "I work in wholesale in Texas."

"I'm currently based at Fort Hood," said Ed. "Are you married?"

"Yes," said Jake. "I married Helen Barksdale in 1971. I have three daughters. This is Daria, my eldest."

"How do you do, Miss?" said Ed, extending his hand.

Daria thought about not taking his hand and decided that it wasn't worth it. "Hi," she said, rewarding him with a frown.

"Did you go in after you graduated?" asked Ed.

Daria guessed that Ed meant the military. Daria watched as her dad took another deep breath, then exhaled.

"No," said Jake.

"I went in after I graduated from college," said Ed. "Active Duty, then the reserves."

"Sounds like you found your calling," said Jake.

"Thanks," Ed replied.

"I'm a member of the Ridge's alumni association," said Ed. "Would you like me to send you info about our next reunion?"

Daria watched as her Dad took in another deep breath, then exhaled. "I'll think about it," he replied.

"Good to see you, Morgendorffer," said Ed. He turned away and walked down the aisle towards his seat.

Daria waited until she was sure that Ed was further down the aisle.

"Dad, did he go to Buxton Ridge with you?" asked Daria.

"Yeah," said Jake. 

-((O-O)))— 

Ed Bellows walked back to his seat feeling bemused. Of all the people he should run into, he ran into Jake Morgendorffer, the worst cadet at Buxton Ridge Military Academy. The guy had been a shivering headcase back at the Ridge, a target for almost every upperclassman or every kid who'd gotten higher rank. Kids could be so cruel. He'd once had a bet with Flint that Morgendorffer would either try to kill himself or get expelled, yet somehow, some way, he'd survived. Not only survived but thrived: by his count three daughters and a marriage that had lasted at least eighteen years.

He'd been out of the academy a year longer than Morgendorffer, and the years changed him. He'd been to Vietnam and those experience knocked the Buxton Ridge cadet cockiness out of him. He'd seen men wounded and die, good men, good soldiers, torn to bits by mortars, gun-fire, landmines, and some of the fiendishly clever booby-traps Charlie could dream up. He'd learned that the good guys didn't always win, you could be killed or wounded and it didn't matter how Strack you were, and sometimes you survived out of sheer luck.

After he'd joined the alumni association, he'd learned that many of his schoolmates had also done poorly. A lot of them, particularly the ones sent to the Ridge because they had problems with their parents or other troubles, had freaked out with drugs, alcohol, gone broke, or had other stuff happen. He knew several of his classmates had had divorces or had problem kids of their own.

And here was Shaky Jakey, of all people, alive and apparently thriving. If he wasn't a happy camper, he was at least a survivor. That counted for something, he thought. 

-(((O-O)))- 

The New York flight lasted about three hours. The jet had an in-flight movie, _Dick Tracy_, starring Warren Beatty and Madonna. Daria didn't watch the movie; instead, she tried to read a London tourist guide. She wasn't able to give it her full attention: she found herself nodding off several times, then being jostled awake when somebody walked down the aisle. She awoke once to find that her Dad had placed his arm over her shoulder. She surprised herself by smiling.

She woke up an hour or so before their plane was supposed to land at JFK and put on her eyeglasses. The movie was over, although the airline was showing some sort of entertainment program. She reached for the tour guide she'd placed in the seat pocket in front of her and resumed reading. She really hoped that Mom would be able to get away early and that she and her parents would be able to see some of London together. She told herself that at the very least she wanted to see St. Paul's Cathedral, Buckingham Palace, and at least one art museum.

She was reading up on some of the gorier parts about the Tower of London when the cabin attendant announced that they were preparing for landing and that it was time to fold up their tray-tables and put their seats in the full upright position. 

-(((O-O)))— 

Neither Jake nor Daria had much time to enjoy JFK, but they didn't have to scramble to make it to the gate for their connecting flight, either. Despite their previous flight's delayed departure from DFW, they had just enough time to visit a sandwich shop and pick up meals to go and sit down to eat them. Jake called Helen and told her that they'd made it to New York and would shortly board their transatlantic flight.

They boarded not long afterwards. Both Jake and Daria showed their passports to the gate agent, then boarded their jet. It was a wide jet, with three rows instead of two. Again, neither of them got a good seat: both of them had seats in the middle of the plane, although Jake traded with Daria and sat in the aisle. Daria started reading her guidebook again, lost interest, then put it away.

There was more tension in the cabin than there was on their previous flight. Despite the fact that Britain was well out of range of any missiles that Saddam Hussein might possess, there was a sense that perhaps he might try something like putting bombs on airliners or have someone waiting near Heathrow with a shoulder-fired anti-aircraft missile to try his luck at downing an airliner.

It was now full dark, and the plane backed away from the gate, then followed the illuminated taxi-ways to the runway and their takeoff. They again went through the taxi, stop, taxi again, stop, taxi shuffle. While Daria was wondering if they'd have to pause again, the pilot broke the pattern and their jet began rolling down the runway. Their plane picked up speed, its engines roared louder, then it lifted off the ground. Daria felt the sensation of the plane leaving the ground, then the landing gear being retracted. _Off to the next part of my life_, she thought.

As far as Daria was concerned, the transatlantic flight soon changed from exciting to boring. Yes, she was leaving the US and flying to Europe, but she was also stuck in a flying tube for over six hours without much to do.

Well, she could write. She dug out a spiral notebook and wrote a couple of pages of her thoughts. Most of what she wrote was more like a journal describing what had happened the last several days than an intimate description of her hopes and fears.

"I see you're keeping a journal. Are you a writer?" said the man sitting next to her. He was silver-haired, polite, and spoke with what Daria assumed was a cultured English accent.

"I have aspirations in that direction," said Daria. "I'm not as good as I want to be."

"Well, most writers weren't very good when they started writing," said the Englishman. "The only way to get better is to keep writing."

"Thank you," said Daria.

The Englishman pulled a carry-on bag out from under the seat in front of him, unzipped it, and took out a book. Daria didn't recognize the title although she guessed that it wasn't literary.

Daria wrote in her journal for half an hour more, then put it down. She'd run out of steam. The Englishman continued to read his mystery.

"Is that a thriller?" she asked.

"No, it's a mystery," the man replied. "There's a difference. Most thrillers I've read or heard about might have murders, thefts, and whatnot, but the reader is taken along for the ride without any chance to find or rank clues and assemble enough evidence to solve the mystery himself. These days the culprit is as often some villain off in the distance that the protagonist never meets face to face. Very flashy, very glamorous, but not very challenging."

"That's usually the sort of book I find at the drugstore," said Daria, "unless it's some Christian book saying how the End Times are upon us. My home town isn't much for book shops."

"My condolences," the man replied.

"That's my corner of West Texas," said Daria.

The Englishman chuckled.

"Seriously, I believe that mysteries are an underrated genre," said the Englishman. "Well written histories and biographies are informative and occasionally uplifting, literary novels say a lot about the psyche and the human condition, but a good mystery makes you think, and not just about solving some crime, either."

Daria was fascinated. The Englishman might be riding his pet hobby horse, but she wanted to make sure that he knew he still had her attention.

"How so?" she asked.

"It's not like the author is simply towing you along some canal path," the Englishman replied. "You're not simply gathering clues, but you're also trying to guess how people are relating to other people, how truthful they are to themselves and to each other, and occasionally whether they've all bought into some convenient falsehood or other. The very best ones have plot twists and force you to discard any theories you might have already created and create new ones to fit new evidence."

Daria grinned.

"What, this isn't simply art?" she said.

"No," said the Englishman. "This is much like real life, learning that not everything should be taken at face value, that people often have hidden agendas, and that your assumptions might be confounded by later developments."

_Food for thought_, thought Daria. She hoped she remembered all of this conversation. She suspected that she might find it useful later.

Daria and the Englishman were interrupted by a cabin attendant a couple of minutes later. She was passing out headphones for the first in-flight movie.

"So what is this first movie?" asked the Englishman.

"_Back to the Future Three_," replied the cabin attendant.

"I'll pass," said the Englishman.

"I'll take the headphones," said Daria, "and a pair for my Dad. He's over to my left." Jake had dozed off.

"Here you are," said the cabin attendant, handing Daria two sets of head phones. "Enjoy."

"Are you planning to watch it?" said the Englishman.

"No," said Daria. "But I might want to watch the second movie."

"Clever girl," said the Englishman. "I should have thought of that." He picked up his mystery and resumed reading. Daria felt inspired again and started writing.

Neither Daria nor the Englishman paid much attention to the movie. In Daria's case, she'd formed her own opinions about the Wild West through conversations with some of Highland's ghosts.

The Englishman finished reading his novel two thirds the way through the movie and tucked it away in the seat pocket in front of him. Daria had put away her journal and had fished out her London guidebook.

"Finished?" she said after glancing in the Englishman's direction.

"Yes," said the Englishman. "I try to travel light so I'll probably leave it on the plane when we arrive at Heathrow—unless you want it of course."

"Thank you," Daria replied. "I'll take it." The Englishman handed it over and Daria started reading it.

It was interesting. She found she'd fallen into the book when she was interrupted a little later by the cabin attendant asking them if they wanted their meal. Daria reluctantly put the book down, then turned to Jake and said "Did you get some sleep, Dad?"

"Thanks, Smidget, I did," Jake replied.

The cabin attendants passed through again, first offering beverages, then in-flight meals. The food was OK but not outstanding. Daria was not so snobbish that she'd pass it up: her Dad had recently started paying more attention to the recipes in cookbooks instead of winging it so often, but he was not a very good cook.

After the cabin attendants cleared away the meals and empty beverage cups and bottles, they played the second movie: Nicolas Roeg's _The Witches_. Daria found herself moving beyond irritation to a low boil as the movie progressed. She knew darn well that witches weren't out to get rid of children. No, they weren't all bald and covered their baldness with wigs. No, they weren't the ugly creatures depicted on the screen. And to her surprise, she found herself taking Quinn-style offense at the writer's depiction of witches all possessing big, ugly feet. Watching the movie progress, she occasionally made faces at the screen, made the one-fingered salute under her blanket, and hoped that her magic stayed under control and didn't do anything.

Years later, she learned that a number of witches, both Muggle wanna-bes and those from magical families, were sufficiently upset about their depictions in the movies that they sent used dress shoes to both Nicolas Roeg and Roald Dahl in protest. There were rumors that some had included Howlers with their footwear, but Daria never learned if the rumors were true.

An hour or so after _The Witches_ ended, the cabin attendants began passing out customs and immigration forms, and the fact that Daria wasn't just flying, but flying to a foreign country struck home. She and her Dad carefully filled out the forms and Daria was careful to put her forms away where she could find them when they exited the plane at Heathrow.

Daria resumed reading the mystery that the Englishman had given her. She'd brought along her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ but decided that the man was too intelligent and too observant for her to explain it away as a massive work of fiction. She regretfully decided that she'd be wiser to keep it where it was—out of sight.

Shortly after she'd read Chapter Fourteen, the chief cabin attendant announced that they would be landing at London Heathrow shortly, and that they should put away their carry-on luggage, put up their tray tables, and bring their seats back to the full upright position.

Jake was awake again. "How did it go, kiddo?" he said.

"Well, I watched the second movie, wrote in my journal, and talked to-," said Daria.

"Ainsley Masters," said the Englishman.

"Jake Morgendorffer, my man," said Jake. "This is my daughter Daria."

"We've met," said Mr. Masters. "Your daughter is an interesting and intelligent young woman who can keep up her end of a conversation. I've met more than a few young women twice her age that can't say the same."

"So what happens at Heathrow, Dad?" Daria asked.

"The people who provided your grant are supposed to have someone to meet us," said Jake. "They're supposed to have someone to meet us outside customs and immigration."

They didn't land immediately. The pilot announced that there was traffic and that they'd have to circle until the air controllers could find them a space to land.

"Pity the poor buggers with close connecting flights," said Mr. Masters. "At least that's not my problem."

After a while, the pilot got permission to land and their plane began its descent. Daria and Jake felt their ears pop then heard and felt the rumble of the landing gear as it extended from the fuselage. The plane flew lower and lower and lower, then they were down. They then heard the roar of the engines as their airliner braked to a slow walk.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said the head cabin attendant. "Welcome to Great Britain and London Heathrow. Please remain seated until the aircraft has come to a complete stop."

The plane came to a complete stop and Jake and Daria heard the engines power down. They had arrived at the terminal. Jake stood up and pulled down his carry-on bag and set it on his seat. Daria pulled out her carry-on and made sure that she had everything in it.

"A pleasure to meet you," said Mr. Masters.

"A pleasure to meet you, too," said Daria. "I don't get to talk with intelligent people that often."

People began to deplane and Jake and Daria finally got their chance to leave the aircraft behind them. They followed the crowd off the plane, through the jetway, and towards Immigration. It was there that Daria had her first encounter with British officialdom. The man was a Scot.

"First time in the UK, Miss?" he said.

"Yes, Sir," said Daria.

"And you're here on a student visa?"

"Yes, sir," said Daria.

"What school will you be attending?" asked the Immigration agent.

"The Howard Institute," Daria replied. That was a cover name used for Hogwarts when dealing with Mundies. "It's in the Highlands."

"Does it get cold in your part of Texas?" he asked.

"Not often," Daria replied.

"Well, I reckon you'll find out what winter is like," he said. Daria decided that she did not like the man's tone of voice.

He stamped her passport and her visa and said "Welcome to Britain!" Daria walked past his desk, waiting for her Dad to follow.

Jake cleared immigration moments later and together they retrieved their luggage shortly afterwards. Daria realized later that only the Muggle customs agents had examined her checked bags: while they did ask her and her Dad to open their bags and made a cursory check for firearms, they left the rest of her stuff alone.

Luggage in hand, they cleared customs and walked out onto the concourse.

"They're supposed to send someone here to meet us and then take us into London," said Jake. He started scanning the crowd, looking for their guide.

Daria did likewise. She didn't know who she should be looking for, but she hoped that they had a sign. 

-(((O-O)))— 

Mundies: In this alternate universe "Mundie" is a term for non-magical humans used by wizards, witches, and other non-magical people in North America and the Caribbean. It supplanted the term "No-Maj." It is derived from the word "Mundane," a term used by members of the Society for Creative Anachronism to describe people in ordinary clothes who may or may not be attending SCA events of Renaissance fairs.

In the print versions of _Harry Potter_, JK Rowling implied that Harry Potter began his Hogwarts adventures on January 1st, 1991. That is just over a year from the "now" in this chapter.


	17. Arrival in London

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Arrival in London

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise. The author states that he is writing for his own amusement and neither expects nor deserves any sort of financial compensation for this work of fiction.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Martha Haddaway clenched the folds of her mid-calf skirt as the taxi pulled over to the concourse for international arrivals. Even now, she still felt like she was in a new, frightening, and dangerous world, despite her having spent the last several weeks learning the byways of Muggle transport and even making several trips to both Heathrow and Gatwick airports to familiarize herself with these new surroundings.

A few weeks ago she had agreed to work for Arcturus Black and escort an American Muggle-born girl and her two Muggle parents from Heathrow to their hotel and thence to Diagon Alley. But even as she'd grown accustomed to Muggle trains, busses, and taxi-cabs, airports still made her very uncomfortable. That there were numerous large machines dependent on their wings and their loud, noisy engines flying through the air without so much as a trace of magic still struck part of her as profoundly disturbing and wrong, even though she'd actually flown aboard one while she had been lovers with Jeremy Dickinson. As if to emphasize the point, a huge, brightly-painted passenger jet roared overhead; its sheer size and the road of its engines making her feel very small and weak. It was awe-inspiring and more than a little terrifying. She fought back an urge to apparate away.

"The fare, Ma'am," said the taxi cab driver.

"Oh," she said, and dug into her purse to extract the Muggle money she'd need to pay the driver. She shuffled through her pound notes and paid him above and beyond the fare glowing on the taxi's meter.

"Sorry," she said.

The cab driver looked mollified. She must have given him enough for a satisfactory tip.

She opened the cab door and began to step out of the rear seat.

"Your sign, Ma'am," said the cab driver. She barely remembered the sign she'd brought with her.

"Oh," she said. "Thank you."

She took her sign and her handbag and stepped away from the cab and passed through a sliding glass door. She stepped inside and found herself amid bewildering crowds of people.

She felt a bit ridiculous holding a sign that said "Morgendorffers" on it. She worried that she'd shortly find herself having to fend off a family of German-speaking Muggles and having to tell them that they weren't the people she was waiting for. She chided herself. Even with German or Austrian Muggles crowding the airport terminal, Morgendorffer wasn't that common a surname.

She heard them before she actually saw them. There were a lot of bewildered and confused-looking Muggles here, but not all that many of them talked with American accents. ""They're supposed to send someone here to meet us and then take us into London," said a tense and distracted adult American male voice. "Now where could they be?"

"Over here, Dad," said the auburn-haired girl who was with him. She noticed them, then: a tall, clean-shaven man with short brown hair, a square face, and a perpetually-worried face. The girl was much shorter, with an oval face, auburn hair, and eyeglasses. Martha recognized her from the photos.

"Hello," said the woman. "I'm Martha Haddaway. You must be Mr. Morgendorffer and this must be Miss Daria Morgendorffer."

"Pleased to meet you," said the tall brown-haired man. "I'm Jake Morgendorffer and this is my daughter Daria."

"Hi, I'm Daria Morgendorffer," said the girl, and nodded.

"Well, welcome to Britain," said Martha.

Both Jake and Daria said thanks.

"Excuse me," said Martha, "but is Madam Morgendorffer with you?"

"No, Helen is back in Texas," said Jake. "The judge trying a case she's working on wouldn't let her off, so we went on ahead. I hope she can catch up in a couple of days."

"Do you have luggage?" asked Martha.

Both Morgendorffers had luggage. The girl had more luggage than her father did. Of course, he was likely to return home to Texas in a couple of days while she was going to spend an entire school year at Hogwarts.

"Well, let's get a cab and take you into the city," said Martha.

A sliding door opened in front of her and she stepped outside. The Morgendorffers, father and daughter followed her. The horizon had turned orange; the sun was about to rise. She hailed a cab and all three of them got in for the drive to the city.

Neither Daria not Jake chose to do much sight-seeing. Martha did try to make small talk.

"Is this your first trip to Britain?" she asked.

"No, Helen and I came here in the summer of 1978, shortly after she graduated from law school," Jake replied.

Martha looked at Daria and wondered if the girl had been conceived here. It seemed likely.

"Was it a long flight?" she asked. She'd learned this was a good conversation opener for Muggles who traveled internationally.

"It was," said Jake. "It took us three hours to get from Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport to JFK in New York, then five and a half hours from there to here."

Martha thought of flying on a broom for five hours, then remembered that Muggle passenger jets flew much faster and sighed with relief that she wouldn't have to be up in the air that long.

"Well what I was thinking of doing was getting you to your hotel and if we can't check you into your room, we can at least drop off your luggage. We can then go over to Diagon Alley and do some shopping since it's so close to the start of school. How are you set for supplies?"

"I've got most of the under-uniform except for the school tie, but I'm lacking the formal robe, the winter cloak, and the pointed hat. I was only able to get a couple of textbooks and I thought it best to buy my potion-making supplies over here. I also have questions about what sort of telescope I need for my astronomy class."

"Well, Diagon Alley should have everything you'll need," said Martha. "We can go in and start shopping. We can also get you your wand."

"I already have a wand," said Daria. "I got it in Texas just before my birthday back in April. It's also registered with the MACUSA"

"Is it a Jonker or a Wolfe?"" asked Martha.

"It's a Sandoz," Daria replied.

"I never heard of him," said Martha.

"He's a local wandmaker living near Highland, Texas," said Daria. "Dad got it for me for my birthday."

Martha frowned, then said "Well, bring your wand along."

"It's in my suitcase," said Daria.

Traffic slowed as they got into the city.

"We chose a hotel off Charing Cross Road. It's not fancy but it's serviceable," said Martha. "I think you'll like it." Arcturus Black had used agents to make reservations at the hotel months ago. It was a small tourist hotel not far from the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. While set in the Muggle world, the enterprising wizarding family that owned it realized that there'd be cross traffic from muggle-borns wishing to stay near Diagon Alley as well as with ordinary Muggles with business nearby.

The trip to their hotel within the city seemed to take about as long from Heathrow to the edge of London proper. The cab turned onto Charing Cross, slowed down, turned onto a side street, then parked.

Jake saw the fare and his eyes bulged. "I'll pay the fare," said Martha.

They went inside the hotel and, as Jake expected, their rooms weren't ready. Jake and Daria handed over their bags to the bell-captain, pausing just long enough for Daria to unzip her suitcase, grab her wand as well as the long paper sack she planned to use to cover it in Mundie territory. She zipped up her suitcase and handed it over to the bell-captain.

"Have you had breakfast?" asked Martha.

"Not yet," said Jake. "We're hungry."

"We can eat at the Leaky Cauldron," said Martha. It's a few blocks away and it would be an excellent introduction to the British wizarding world."

They stepped outside and started walking up the street, crossing the street at a pedestrian walk supposedly guarded by a traffic light. They walked past a bookshop, then paused.

"Do you see the entrance?" said Martha.

"Right there," said Daria. _I might have Mundie parents but I'm not stone-blind,_ she thought.

Martha opened the door and Daria stepped inside. Jake glanced about in surprise, wondering where his eldest daughter had gone.

"Let me show you inside, Mr. Morgendorffer," she said, then took him by the hand and through the doorway to the Leaky Cauldron.

Jake allowed her to take him by the hand and lead him into a large taproom with smoke-smudged white plaster walls and lit with a few incandescent lamps. The tap room was crowded this time of day; Jake was too tired from his flight to realize that most of the morning crowd was here to have something to eat and drink before they began shopping at the shops of Diagon Alley and beyond. Memories started coming back to him, a much smaller taproom at an inn he and Helen had stumbled across while they were fleeing a heavy rainstorm well north of London.

Jake looked over the crowd with wonder. A couple of the Cauldron's patrons caught him staring at them, and Jake turned his eyes away in embarrassment. Most of the Cauldron's patrons were dressed in what Jake later learned was considered proper Wizarding wear. Some of it looked like something that men and women might have worn in some bygone century, some of it looked like it came from ordinary children's books about witchcraft and magic. Few of the morning crowd looked like anything Jake would expect to find walking on the sidewalk on the other side of the pub's wall.

Martha seated Jake and Daria at one end of a long wooden table and waved a bar-maid over. "A menu, please!" she said. "I've got a pair of hungry travelers who've just arrived after a long, tiring journey!" A barmaid started towards their table and wafted a trio of menus using wandless magic, making Jake stare in wide-eyed amazement. He took a breath, told himself that he'd seen magic at Los Girasoles back in Highland, picked up the menu and started reading it. He felt his stomach rumble as his eyes ran down the menu. He hadn't realized that he was this hungry.

The Cauldron brought back more memories of his previous trip to Britain. He and Helen had had to watch how much they spent back then, but they'd indulged in Pub breakfasts once or twice. He'd tried Bangers and Mash and liked it. He decided to have them again.

Daria watched her Dad tense up in this new environment, then slowly begin to relax. When she decided that he wasn't going to freak out and run screaming out the door, she picked up her own menu and started reading it. decided on scrambled eggs and bacon, along with orange juice.

Daria did some staring herself. The wizards and witches here were so different from the ones in Highland. Back in Highland, most wizards and witches dressed much like their non-magical neighbors and it could sometimes be hard to tell who was with which group. There were exceptions: Marshal Dillon came to mind, Mrs. Benavides, some of the younger ones. Daria didn't think Madam Whitcomb really counted: she was a fortune-teller that catered to Mundies and wizarding folk alike.

"Would you care for tea?" asked the barmaid. She looked much like other barmaids on other side of the wall.

"Tea for me," said Martha.

"I'd like coffee," said Jake.

"And what about you, Miss?" asked the barmaid.

"I'll have tea," said Daria. She wasn't a big tea drinker, but she might need something to wash down her breakfast.

"Have you decided what you want to eat yet?" asked the barmaid.

The trio gave her their orders and the barmaid walked away. She returned not long after with tea and coffee and Jake and Daria began to feel awake again.

-(((O-O)))—

After they'd finished eating and paying for their breakfast, Martha led them towards the back. "You may not believe me," she said, "but this is the entrance to Diagon Alley." Jake watched as Martha tapped several bricks in a clockwise pattern then goggled in amazement as the bricks in the wall began moving, disassembling the solid-looking brick wall behind the Pub and reassembling itself into an archway.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," said Martha, "our main shopping area and the heart of magical Britain."

Jake and Daria were so wonder-struck that neither of them moved. Martha decided to allow them a few moment to marvel at their first view of the street. After a while, Daria turned away while Jake continued to stare.

"Mr. Morgendorffer," said Martha, "we'd best move before the archway begins to reassemble itself into a wall."

"Oh," said Jake, and stepped forward into Diagon Alley.

Daria felt distracted. Diagon Alley was very distracting. There were so many wonderful things to see and people to stare at. Diagon Alley was like something out of a story book, a cobblestoned street lined old timbered buildings with shops that looked like they'd fit into something out of Dickens. She would have been more than content to walk up and down this street all morning and take in the sights.

The practical part of her brain rose up to spoil her fun. "Like where we would go first?" she asked.

"Madam Malkin's, I think," said Martha. "We need to get you fitted for your robes and winter cloak. It's very close to the start of school and we'll need to step lively."

"This way," said Martha. They passed a bookshop improbably named Flourish and Blotts. Daria made a note to herself to return there later.

The crowd continued to amaze. So did some of the other things: street vendors selling magical charms and candies, hooting owls, a shop selling what looked like all sorts of cauldrons. Daria wondered if they sold the standard number four cauldrons that were on her school supply list.

Their progress was interrupted by a woman about Mrs. Fields' age, her sixth-grade teacher back in Highland. "Martha!" she said. "Good to see you! What are you doing this morning? Are you on the rebound from Renly? Is that your new beau?"

"I'm helping a Muggle-born girl get ready for her first year at Hogwarts," Martha replied. "This is her Da."

"Jake Morgendorffer," said Jake. "How do you do?"

"Sally Rand," said the girl. She looked at Jake in speculation.

"Morgendorffer?" she said. "Are you by any chance related to Eugen Morgendorffer, the chaser for the Leipzig Quidditch team?"

Jake said nothing for a moment. A Quidditch-playing Morgendorffer? He had learned about Quidditch at the Los Girasoles restaurant back in Highland: it was a game witches and wizards played on brooms, however he was pretty sure that his Dad's family hadn't been magical for centuries, if ever.

"I don't think so," he replied. "My Dad was Nathan Morgendorffer, the Marine aviator during World War II, and my cousins went out for track or hockey."

"Oh," said Sally. "Well, a pleasure to meet you anyway."

Meanwhile, Daria had given herself over to people-watching while her Dad was talking to Martha and Martha's friend. She saw a striking blonde woman walk down the street with a handsome young boy who was clearly her son. The woman was not only beautiful but well-groomed and wore what must be seriously chic clothing, at least here in Britain's wizarding world.

"A pair of filthy Muggles," said the boy. "They should be ashamed of themselves. They shouldn't even be allowed to be on the streets."

"There, there, Little Dragon, you'll go to school with next year with children who have Muggle parents. You'll have to endure them."

"Filthy little Mud-blood," said Draco, glancing at Daria. The boy hadn't bothered to keep their voices down. The little girl, presumably the Mud Blooded witch, shot him a cold stare that reminded Narcissa of the looks Cousin Walburga gave out when she saw someone or something she disapproved of.

She was so amused that it took her a moment to realize that the little girl had gray eyes, so much like those of a proper daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

_Coincidence, of course_, she told herself.

It took Martha a couple of moments to introduce little Daria to her friend Sally, end their conversation, and make their way to Madam Malkin's.

Jake and Daria both saw the sign and followed Martha inside.

"Ah, Miss Haddaway!" said Madam Malkin. "Are these the Muggles you told me about last week?"

"Yes,": Martha replied. "This is the girl needing her cloak and robes. We won't be bothering with her Muggle da."

Jake shot the younger witch a look of resentment. Back in Highland he'd heard that some wizards and witches looked down on Mundies. Back in Highland, though, they kept it to themselves. It was more open here.

Madam Malkin turned her attention to Daria. "So you're the young woman we're kitting out," she said. "You're a bit late for your fitting, but better late than never. We'll try to get you your clothing before the train leaves London on the First."

"Well, let's get started," she said. "Follow me."

Daria followed her over to a stool in the corner. There was another girl about her age standing on another stool. She looked like she didn't want to be there and that she resented anything that delayed the end to her current ordeal.

"Stand on the stool, please," said Madam Malkin. Daria got up on the stool.

Madam Malkin pulled out a black robe and handed it to Daria. "Now try this on," she said. Daria shrugged the cloak over her shoulders.

"Very good," said Madam Malkin. She then pulled out a tape measure, which to Daria's amazement began to take both Daria's body measurements and those of the robe she was wearing.

"Madam Malkin, how long is this going to take?" the other girl on the stool said irritably. "That girl should have been in here at least three weeks ago to buy her robes, not now at the last minute."

"Marietta, don't distract Madam Malkin, she's busy," said another woman, a witch that Daria guessed was about Aunt Amy's age.

"Thank you, Madam Edgecombe," said Madam Malkin, who quickly but carefully pinned where the seam lines should be on Daria's robe.

"Now stay put for a moment, Miss-," said Madam Malkin.

"Morgendorffer, Daria Morgendorffer," said Daria.

"Miss Morgendorffer," said Madam Malkin. "Both of you girls settle down. You'll be going to school together so you might as well be friends." Madam Malkin missed the dirty looks Marietta and Daria gave each other while she made the final adjustments on Marietta's robe.

_With my luck the auburn-haired Yankee girl will be in my hous_e, Marietta thought grimly.

Mariette Edgecombe was off her stool and out the front door of Madam Malkin's by the time Madam Malkin had finished fitting Daria for her outer robes and cloak. Martha had noticed that Jake had been looking bored and persuaded him to try a cloak on for side. Jake had looked at himself in the mirror, shook his head, then gently handed the cloak back to Martha before Daria and Madam Malkin reached the front counter.

"All measured?" said Marth.

"All measured," Daria replied. She wondered how Quinn would have handled Madam Malkin's.

_She probably would have thrown a fit about the black cloaks,_ she thought with a smirk.

"You mentioned that you also needed some other things for your uniform," said Martha.

"Yes," said Daria. "I've got my, blouses, school jackets, skirts, socks, and school cardigans, but I don't have my school tie."

"We can get those here," Martha said reassuringly. She waved over one of Madam Malkin's assistants, who procured the items and added it to Daria's purchases.

"So how do we pay for this?" asked Daria.

"Your grant program has a line of credit," Martha said reassuringly. Jake was standing behind her and nodded in agreement. "They'll pay for it."

"So when do we pick up my things?" said Daria.

Martha turned to Madam Malkin. "These should be ready Friday afternoon," said Madam Malkin. "If not, come by early on Saturday morning. We'll be open at 7:30 for the students catching the 11:00 train. Now let's get you written up and sent on your way. I need to attend to my other customers."

They left the store, Daria now in possession of her official school tie: solid black, with the Hogwarts crest.

"Where to next?" said Jake.

"I think we ought to buy Daria a cauldron," said Martha. "It will come in handy for storing your things—unless you have one already."

"I have one, but it's back in Highland," said Daria. "I didn't know if it was school standard and decided not to risk it."

"Do you want an owl?" said Martha.

"I like the thought, but I can't take one home," said Daria. "She'd have to spend the summer in Quarantine either going to the States or from the US, and I just can't do that."

"Oh," said Martha. She hadn't though about that, but the girl had, or she'd had the good sense to listen to someone who had.

The Morgendorffers were clearly reaching exhaustion and Martha realized that they'd have to cut the day's shopping short. She still planned to stop by Olivander's, though. She'd not heard of the American wand-maker who'd made the girl's wand and thought the girl could do better.

They continued down the street, passing a store that not only sold the sorts of brass telescopes listed as essential school supplies in Daria's Hogwarts letter, but the more serious telescopes used by Mundie amateur astronomers and star gazers. The window display held a couple of boys' rapt attention. One of them turned around, saw Daria, and his jaw dropped in astonishment.

"I say, Daria, what are you doing here?" he said.

Daria was almost equally surprised.

"Cuthbert?" she said. "Is that you?"

-(((O-O)))—


	18. Two of Wands

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter Eighteen: Two of Wands.

DISCLAIMER: _Daria_ is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. The Fink-Nottle surname may well be the property of the Estate of PG Wodehouse, even though neither Cuthbert nor Edgar are canon Wodehouse characters. I do not own either Daria, Harry Potter, or the Fink-Nottle surname and do not seek financial remuneration for this fiction.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

"I say, Daria, what are you doing here?" said Cuthbert.

Daria was almost equally surprised.

"Cuthbert?" she said. "Is that you?"

"It's me," said Cuthbert. "I didn't think to see you here."

"I didn't either until I got an invitation to go to Hogwarts," Daria replied.

"Super!" said Cuthbert. "Maybe we'll be in the same House."

_Uh-oh_, thought Daria. She hadn't read that part of the fine print. Cuthbert Fink-Nottle 24-7 at Hogwarts _wasn't_ something she'd thought about.

"When did you find out that you were a witch?" asked Cuthbert.

"Last November when I blew a hole in my bedroom wall with a secondhand wand I'd bought at a flea market," said Daria.

"You didn't tell me about that," said Cuthbert.

"It was shortly after you and your folks left Highland," Daria replied.

Martha watched the children's interplay with amazement. This was _not_ something she expected. These children already knew each other. As she listened to their interplay, she realized that they must have lived in the same town. She wondered if the boy already know that he was a wizard.

Her musings were interrupted by an older man greeting Mr. Morgendorffer.

"Jacob!" exclaimed Edgar Fink-Nottle.

"Edgar, my man!" said Jake with a big smile, "Good to see you!"

"And you!" said Edgar. "What are you doing here in London?"

"Well, my eldest has magic," said Jake.

"As does Cuthbert," said Edgar. "We're here shopping for school supplies. He's going to…" He paused, looked thoughtful, then continued "to Hogwarts," he finished.

"So is Daria," said Jake. "She got a grant to go to Hogwarts for a couple of years and Helen and I saw it as a chance to broaden her education." The lie got easier to tell with repetition, but Jake still felt his conscience bother him.

"Is Helen with you?" asked Edgar.

"No, she had to remain in Texas," said Jake. "She's trying a case and the judge and her firm wouldn't let her off. She might come here on the first."

"Pity," said Edgar. "I'd I've liked to have said Hello to her. So would Camille."

Martha had not only been surprised and mystified but also felt left out.

"Excuse me," she said. "Do you know each other?"

"Oh, how do you do?" said Edgar. "I'm Edgar Fink-Nottle and this is my son Cuthbert."

"We know each other," said Jake.

"I got sent out to Texas for my job and I lived in their town for a couple of years," said Edgar. "Camille and I met Jacob, his wife, and his daughters whilst I was living there. Our children went to school together and we became friends. Jacob and his wife saw Camille, Cuthbert, and me off at the airport when we returned to Britain last November."

"And your son is?" Martha started.

"He is," said Edgar, "otherwise I doubt we'd be here."

"Well, I suppose we ought to do proper introductions," said Edgar. "We've just met, this strapping lad is my son Cuthbert Fink-Nottle. And you are—"

"Martha Haddaway," said Martha. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"May I ask if you're shopping or if you're just sight-seeing?"

"We're shopping," said Edgar. "This young sorcerer needs a wand."

"Olivander's, I presume?" said Martha.

"That's the name of the place," said Edgar.

"What a coincidence!" said Martha. "We're going there too. Miss Morgendorffer needs to have her wand checked out."

_My wand is fine_, thought Daria. _I don't have any problems with it_. She thought about making a scene then discarded the idea. Cuthbert would be wand-shopping at Olivander's and she remembered all too well what a hassle finding the right wand had been for her. Maybe he could do with some hand-holding and moral support, she thought grumpily.

Olivander's was several blocks down Diagon Alley. It was narrow and shabby; Daria was not impressed with it. There was a sign over the door with peeling gold letters that read Olivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC. Daria let Martha open the door; it tinkled as she opened it and she, Daria, Jake, and the two Fink-Nottles went inside.

Olivander's was a tiny place. The show room was small: even the de-facto "showroom" at Mr. Sandoz's workshop back in Howard County was larger. It was well-stocked, though, there were long, thin boxes of wands stacked to the ceiling behind the front counter.

"Good afternoon," said a creepy-sounding voice. An older man with white, disheveled hair and a worm jacket and vest stood there on the other side of the shop's small counter.

"Miss Haddaway," he said. "Good to see you again. Alder wand, unicorn, nine inches. Do you still have it?"

"Yes I do," said Martha.

"And what brings you here?" he said.

"Well, I've brought a Muggle-born to buy a wand and a Muggle-raised girl to have her wand checked out," said Martha. "She bought hers from a wand-maker I've never heard of in Texas."

"I like my wand," said Daria.

"With your permission, I can settle your dispute," said Mr. Olivander. "If you would, could you please pass your wand to me and let me see it. I can tell you if it's appropriate or if you might want something better."

_Arrogant English assholes,_ thought Daria. She reluctantly took her wand out of the long paper bag she'd concealed it in and handed it to Mr. Olivander.

Mr. Olivander took Daria's wand, first holding it in one hand, then placed it down on the counter and stared at it for a few moments. He then held the tip to his ear and paused as if listening to something.

"Could you please extend your wand-hand?" he said. Daria reluctantly let Mr. Olivander take her hand in both of his. Jake glared at him as he took the kiddo's right hand in both of his, then relaxed when he let it go. He then handed Daria's wand back to her.

"I see," Mr. Olivander said cryptically. "Now, could I ask you to give it a wave?"

That Daria was willing to do. She thought of the magical fireworks displays she'd made when she first held her wand, then made again while the nut-case was breaking into her house in Highland. The shop was lit in a swirl of blue and silver color as Daria waved her wand several times, then lowered it with a smile on her face.

"Just as I thought," said Mr. Olivander.

"Miss Haddaway, Miss _," he began.

"Daria Morgendorffer," Daria supplied.

"Miss Morgendorffer," said Mr. Olivander. "You possess a good, serviceable wand that has bonded to you and should serve you quite well at Hogwarts and in the years beyond, a wand that has already proven itself suited to your personality. If you fear that your wand isn't good enough, don't be: your wand is entirely adequate."

Daria's expression had already changed from apprehension to a smile.

"Thank you," she said.

"If I may, may I ask you if you know what wood your wand-maker used and what your wand's core might be?" asked Mr. Olivander.

"Mesquite wood with a Thunderbird core," Daria replied.

Their moment was ended by the flash of Cuthbert's camera taking a photograph.

"Thank you, sir," said Daria.

"I am not familiar with the wand-maker who made your wand," said Mr. Olivander. "Could I ask you his name?"

"His name is Eusebio Sandoz," said Daria. "He lives outside Highland, Texas in the USA."

"Could you tell him that he does good work for me?" said Mr. Olivander.

"I'd be happy to," said Daria.

She had a thought. "Mr. Olivander," she said. "Could I take a picture of you holding that wand and giving it a thumbs-up? I can give Mr. Sandoz a print when I go back to Texas next June. I'm sure he'd like it."

"I'd be happy to pose," said Mr. Olivander.

"Darn it, I don't have my camera with me,' said Daria. "Cuthbert, could I trouble you?"

Cuthbert took three. 

-(((O-O)))— 

Buying Cuthbert's wand took a little longer. Cuthbert's first wave caused a window pane to explode. After the first magical ricochet, Jake excused himself and stepped outside. At the third, Martha said that she needed a cigarette and stepped out too. That was after several rows of wand boxes flew off the shelves and spilled their contents onto the floor behind Mr. Olivander's counter. Daria and Mr. Fink-Nottle remained with Cuthbert and were with him when he tried his eleventh wand and found a match: English oak with a unicorn tail hair core. Daria smiled when Cuthbert's wand emitted a stream of yellow sparks.

"Eleven wands," Cuthbert complained. "I didn't think I'd ever find a match."

"Actually, I don't think that it took you that long," said Daria. "I must have tried three dozen before I finally had a match."

"I think even Quinn would call it quits after she tried on her twenty-fourth pair of shoes and failed to get a fit."

"Cor," said Cuthbert.

Daria remembered a line from a thriller she'd read some months back that had stuck with her: "Shaken, not stirred." She surprised herself by patting Cuthbert on the back and saying "Attaboy, it's done. You've got your wand."

Cuthbert gave a sign of relief.

"Good choice, Cuthbert," said Mr. Fink-Nottle.

"Mister Fink-Nottle," said Mr. Olivander. Daria couldn't tell if Mr. Olivander was only speaking to Cuthbert or if he was speaking to both of them. "Remember, it is the wand that chooses the wizard, not the wizard who chooses the wand."

They all decided to call it a day after Cuthbert bought his wand. Martha suggested that they have ice cream at Florean Fortescu's to celebrate before they went their separate ways.

Martha apologized to Daria. "I'd like to apologize for assuming that you had a dodgy wand," she said. "I'd assumed that since you didn't own a wand made by a well-known wandmaker yours might be—"

"Sub-par," Daria finished.

"Yes, that," said Martha. "My apologies. Pax?"

"Pax," Daria replied.

Daria and Jake shared war stories about when Daria bought her wand.

"I thought I'd be driving forever," said Jake.

"Mr. Sandoz didn't take chances," said Daria. "His showroom was a converted car garage and when it was time to try out his wands, he flicked up the garage door and made me wave my wand at the great outdoors."

Any ricochets?" asked Mr. Fink-Nottle.

"Only a couple," said Daria. "No damage done, although there was an empty oil drum and a couple of boulders that will never be the same again." 

-(((O-O)))-


	19. Diagon Alley Again

Daria Owlyear Diagon Alley Again

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter, its cast, and background are the creation of JK Rowling and are the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I certainly don't own them, and neither intend nor deserve to financially profit by this work of fiction. 

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl 

Both Jake and Daria left Florean Fortescue's ice cream shop sated, happy, but exhausted. They walked back down Diagon Alley, passed through the Leaky Cauldron to get out to Charing Cross Road, then returned to their hotel. Once there, they formally checked in, then went upstairs to take a nap.

They awoke near dusk. Jake woke up first. He went downstairs and walked out and down to Charing Cross Road, thinking that he'd forgotten something. When he tried to buy a newspaper, he was reminded of what he'd forgotten: he'd forgotten to change some dollars into British pounds. He returned sheepishly to his hotel empty-handed.

The hotel did do a little currency exchange, although the cashier assisting the evening clerk took pity on Jake and told him that he'd do better to visit a bank or use his debit card. Not knowing where the nearest teller machine was situated, Jake decided to change forty dollars into pounds at the hotel this once and look for a teller machine the next morning.

Smidget was up by the time he returned to their hotel room. She was frowning. His daughter had unpacked her suitcase and was laying out the clothing she'd brought from Highland as well as what she'd bought today.

"How's it going, kiddo?" said Jake.

"I think I'm mostly good on my clothing," said Daria, "but we're going to have to return to Diagon Alley before I set off for Hogwarts. I need to get my books and supplies."

"We still have a couple of days before your train leaves, so we can go shopping again tomorrow," said Jake. "Do you want to stay in or go out?"

"Let's go take a walk," said Daria.

They went down to the lobby, out the door, and over to Charing Cross Road. They first walked in what they hoped was South and after some huffing and puffing, found themselves at Trafalgar Square. They saw the tall column looming over the Square.

"Nelson's column," said Jake.

"Horatio Lord Nelson, an English Admiral, right?" said Daria. "He won the Battle of Trafalgar."

"That's right," said Jake. "I had to take military history classes back at Buxton Ridge. I remember one quiz where we had to list the major battles of the Napoleonic Wars. Most of the guys failed to remember even half of the battles—I think they were too busy with homecoming. But I was one of the only two guys who remembered Trafalgar."

"I bet your teacher was impressed," said Daria.

"He was," said Jake. "But Cadet-Sergeant Polk wasn't. I had to do two weeks of KP because I got it right and he didn't."

"That stinks," Daria said frowning. One of the things she'd hated about her elementary school were the lazy-asses who not only didn't study but bullied the people who did.

"Let's head back," said Daria. They turned around and started walking back towards their hotel. They soon found themselves near a cross street with bus stop.

"I wish I knew London better," said Daria. "I'd love to see Piccadilly Circus."

Jake glanced up the cross street and saw a London Transport bus stopped behind several automobiles waiting for the light to change. He noted the destination sign above the front windshield: Piccadilly Circus.

"You know, kiddo," said Jake. "That bus over there looks like it goes there."

Jake worried about how he'd get a city bus to stop. In some places they always stopped at certain stops, whether anyone was getting on or off or not. At others, you had to put up your arm and wave. Back when he was a hippie, he'd practically had to do a rain dance to get the driver to slow down and pick him up. He wondered if he'd have to do it here and soon learned that he didn't have to. The bus slowed down to a stop in front of him and discharged a couple of passengers. The front door opened and he and Daria got on.

It took him a few moments to pay the fares for himself and Daria, but he and his daughter were soon on their way: he standing while she sat down. The ride to the Circus was relatively brief and they didn't miss their stop; Daria had asked for help from other riders.

They got off the bus behind several other passengers, stepping aside so they'd not be jostled while they looked around. They found a good vantage-point to marvel at the wonderful panorama of brightly-lit signs and streams of moving automobiles.

Daria let her eyes feast on it. This was so cool, so utterly unlike Highland.

"Thanks, Dad!" she said. 

-(((O-O)))— 

The next morning Jake and Daria were awakened by the sound of someone knocking on their door.

"Wake up, sleepy-heads!" said Martha. "We have more shopping to do!"

Jake and Daria got out of bed and set about the tasks of waking up and getting ready for the new day. They emerged a short while later dressed and a little disheveled.

"So how did you spend yesterday evening?" asked Martha.

"We took a nap, then visited Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus," said Daria.

"Sounds exciting," said Martha. Despite the fact that she'd lived in the London area for years, she realized that there was so much of the city she'd never seen, particularly the Muggle parts. She wondered why the Muggles would name a London square after someplace in Spain.

Breakfast was nearly over but there was still toast, jam, hard-boiled eggs, and some fruit, so neither Jake nor Daria had to start their morning on empty stomachs. They ate quickly; Jake washing his breakfast down with coffee, Daria with tea.

"So what are we doing today?" asked Daria.

"Well, we still have to get the remainder of your school supplies," said Martha. "You've been measured for robes, you've got a wand, but you still need books, charts, a cauldron, and a telescope, among other things." Daria thought about her luggage and wondered how she'd be able to fit a cauldron and a telescope, not to mention textbooks inside her suitcase. This was definitely going to be a problem.

"We might have to get another suitcase," Daria said worriedly. "I don't see how I'm going to fit all that stuff inside my bag."

"I might be able to help there," said Martha, thinking of her first paying job. She'd learned a thing or two about the sorts of magically-expanding trunks and valises while she worked there and saw no reason why any witch or wizard should have to unwillingly suffer the space and weight restrictions imposed by Muggle luggage.

The three of them left the hotel a short time later, first walking over to Charing Cross Road, then following it to the entrance for the Leaky Cauldron. Martha opened the door and the two Morgendorffers followed her inside.

The late morning crowd was somewhat different from the one Jake and Daria had seen the day before. Most of the wizards and witches that had had morning business in the Alley had already passed through, what was left were late-comers, travelers, families shopping for school supplies for their children, as well as a scattering of tipplers planning to indulge in some day-long drinking. Daria and Jake let Martha lead them to the back and again watched with amazement as the brick wall behind the pub re-arranged itself into an archway leading to Diagon Alley.

Their first stop was at a shop that sold cauldrons. That, at least, was something Daria was familiar with. Martha told them that at a pinch, cauldrons could serve as baskets. Daria noted that the British Number Four cauldrons were slightly smaller than the ones she'd trained on back in Highland and made a note to herself to ask her Hogwarts potions teacher about how that would affect recipes and potion preparation.

Their next stop was at Arsenius & Jigger. Daria was carefully picking out and checking off the ingredients she was supposed to bring to school when she saw her Dad going through some of the supplies and putting things into a small shopping basket.

"Uh, Dad," Daria said worriedly. "Do you know this stuff does?"

"I don't see any harm in trying some with my cooking," Jake said confidently.

"Dad, seriously, I don't think that's a good idea," said Daria. "If you don't know what the stuff here does, I wouldn't mess with it."

"A little wouldn't hurt, kiddo," said Jake. He was reaching for dried moon-lily roots when an unfamiliar hand grasped his wrist.

"Hey!" said Jake.

Jake glanced at the hand and saw himself facing an amused-looking, solidly-built looking matron who reminded him of one of his elementary-school teachers, only this woman had a grip Mrs. Herring couldn't have matched on her best day.

"Muggle?" she said.

"Hunh?" said Jake.

"No-Maj? Mundane?" said the matron.

"Yeah," Jake said, deflating.

"Are you taking potion classes?" said the matron.

"No," said Jake.

"You might want to leave the stock on these shelves alone until you know what you're doing," said the matron.

"All right," Jake said dejectedly. 

-(((O-O)))— 

Flourish and Blotts was a revelation. True, the books were far more expensive than Mundie books were, but Flourish and Blotts had a wide selection of books about magic that Daria had never seen before. It was almost more than she could do to restrict most of her purchases to the ones on her list: she wanted buy as many books as she could. Even so, she bought five more books that looked useful.

Meanwhile, a helpful healer had pointed out a couple of self-help books written for Mundie or Squib parents raising wizarding parents: one was titled _My Magical Daughter: A Muggle's Guide for Raising a Young Witch_, the other was _Raising Magical Children in an Unmagical World_. Jake bought both and resolved to start reading at least one of them on his flight back to Texas. Their line of credit significantly depleted, Jake and Martha left Flourish and Blotts with a sense of relief while Daria left in a state of contentment. 

-(((O-O)))— 

By the time that Jake had finished shopping for Daria's supplies, not only were Daria's hands full, but Jake was also carrying some of their purchases.

"I think we ought to stop in here," said Martha, turning into a shop that sold luggage. Daria irritably wondered why Martha was taking them on this detour but followed her inside.

They quickly discovered that Martha knew people at this shop. "Miss Haddaway, what brings you here?" said a balding middle-aged man wearing a suit that wouldn't have looked out of place in Charles Dickens' London.

"Trunks," said Martha. "I'm helping a Muggle-born girl prepare for her first year at Hogwarts," Martha replied.

"I see," said the balding man in the Dickensian outfit. "Does the girl have magic?"

"Well, I wouldn't be bringing her around if she didn't," said Martha.

"Well, you brought them to the right place," he said.

"How do you do, sir? I'm Ernest Satchel," said the shopkeeper.

"Jake Morgendorffer," said Jake. "This is my daughter Daria."

"Americans?" he asked.

"Born and raised," Jake replied.

"So you need a school trunk," said Ernest.

"She might," said Jake. "The suitcase we bought back in Texas is getting a little cramped."

"Well, you'll find that our trunks can expand to hold everything a young lady might need short of grand tour of the Continent," said Ernest. "Let me show you this model over here." He pulled what looked like an old-fashioned brown leather suitcase from a shelf and set it on end on a table. He then unlatched it, opened it, then pulled a metal tab on the side of the latch.

Jake's eyes bulged. The space inside the suitcase was far larger than the suitcase itself. Could they do that?

"We sell a lot of these to schoolchildren attending Hogwarts as well as a couple of the smaller schools," said Ernest. "They hold everything: wardrobe, books, school supplies, cauldron, telescope for astronomy classes."

"I see," said Jake, still feeling astonished. "But even if it can hold all that, isn't there a problem with weight?"

"Not really," said Ernest. "Magic. The clothing, books, and telescope are actually in some sort of side dimension; I won't bore you with the details save that I have a squib cousin who is still trying to puzzle it out using Muggle mathematics. I leave him to it; it keeps him from talking about tennis matches."

"What do you think, kiddo?" said Jake.

Daria looked inside the suitcase in wonder. THIS was something they hadn't talked about back in Highland. It would certainly solve her luggage problem. She wasn't a clothes person, she wasn't planning to become one, but she certainly needed the space.

_And it definitely would be one up on Quinn_, she thought snarkily. Still, questions had to be asked.

"Is this technology new or has it been around for a while?" she said.

Mr. Satchel smiled at the idea of magic being referred to as technology but understood what the girl was asking.

"Not to worry, Miss, but it's magic that has been around for centuries," he replied. "Plenty of time to work most of the, ah, bugs out."

Daria sighed with relief. "Cool," she said.

"Well, in that case," she began. "Uh, Dad, I'd love to have a trunk like this…"

Her dad was distracted. Daria rolled her eyes. That could happen. She saw him stare with delight at a yellow handbag with dots and Xs in it.

"Felix the Cat!" Jake exclaimed.

"Beg pardon?" said Martha.

"Felix the Cat was a cartoon I used to watch when I was a kid," said Jake. "He had a bag of tricks that could assume any shape and hold incredible amounts of stuff. I never thought to see the real thing."

"Really?" said Earnest, who'd ordered two dozen of those bags then wondered why they didn't sell.

"I still remember the theme song," said Jake. "Felix the Cat, the wonderful, wonderful cat. Whenever he gets in a fix, he reaches into his bag of tricks…." He sang the rest of the theme song, ignoring Martha's look of concern about his mental stability and Daria's look of embarrassment.

Earnest looked at Jake in a new light. Maybe he could help him move the rest of those bags. "Mr. Morgendorffer, tell me more about this Felix the Cat," he said.

They left the luggage shop a little later. Jake shared most of what he remembered about Felix the Cat with Mr. Satchel along with a quick pencil sketch and Mr. Satchel gave him a discount on Daria's new trunk as payment.

"Well," said Martha. "It's not even noon yet."

"Huh," said Jake.

"Well, I think that's it," said Martha. "You've got your magical school supplies, a new trunk, and I think you have the rest of the day free to spend as you like. Your robes should be ready Friday afternoon, but possibly not until early Saturday morning. I'd stop in on Friday afternoon just to make sure."

"Mister Morgendorffer, Daria, you know about from where and when the Hogwarts Express leaves London for Hogwarts, don't you?"

"King's Cross Station, track 9 3/4s at 11:00 AM," Daria replied.

"And you have your ticket, don't you?" said Martha.

"We do," said Daria.

"Well, in that case, feel free to tour the city, and if you need me, just call," said Martha.

They shook hands and went their separate ways: Daria and Jake back to their hotel, Martha as far as the Leaky Cauldron, then off to some errand of her own.

Jake helped Daria take her new suitcase up the stairs. Daria set it on the bed, opened her old suitcase, then frowned.

"Dad, you wouldn't mind if I take care of this part myself, would you?" she said.

"Sure thing, kiddo," said Jake. "I'll leave you to it. Besides, I've got to go downstairs and make a phone call."

-(((O-O)))-

Author's notes: I read a lot a lot of Harry Potter fanfiction before and during the time I started writing the Daria Ravenclaw series. I soon discovered that a lot of my fellow fanfiction writers have very bizarre ideas as to London's size and what is landmark is plotted where. One of my favorite blunders was that of a young writer that plopped Little Whinging so close to Diagon Alley that Harry could reach it during an afternoon's stroll.

One of my other pet peeves is that many of my fellow fanfiction writers make no effort to set Diagon Alley in the real London or even a fanfiction London that looks like the real deal. I decided to avoid that mistake and attempted tried to place real London landmarks within walking, bus, or underground distance to Diagon Alley..

I am not a Londoner, and I'm not really familiar with the city. But I have been studying guidebooks and maps. I know I made mistakes-but I'm trying.


	20. Gadding About LOndon

_Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl_. Chapter Twenty: Gadding About London

DISCLAIMER: _Daria_ is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom._ Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise and neither seek nor deserve any financial recompense for this work of fan-fiction (Although head-pats and "Atta boys!" are good compensation). 

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl 

Jake went downstairs while Daria started moving the contents of her old suitcase into her new one. Not that she really had anything to worry about him seeing what she'd packed, but that she had gotten that self-conscious was a reminder that Smidget was getting older and would be a teenager before too long.

He really did have to make some phone calls. His first call was to his house. Ronnie and Quinn hadn't left for school yet and he was able to ask them how they were doing and if they were enjoying their new school year. Quinn said that she was glad to be with her school friends and that she hoped that he'd return home soon. Ronnie also said that she was also all right and that she missed him and that she also missed Daria.

His second call was to Helen's office to tell her that he and Daria were still alive and enjoying London. A secretary at Bookman, Collins, Law and Scales answered his call and told him that Helen hadn't arrived yet. He learned that Helen would be spending most of her day at the court house, but that she'd be sure to pass his message along.

His third call was to a number that Arcturus Black had given to him before he'd started this trip. He said that he and Daria had safely arrived in London and had been shopping for her school supplies. He apologized for not calling the day before and asked him if he wanted to have lunch with him and his daughter before he put her on the train for Hogwarts on Saturday.

The old wizard still made him uneasy. He was friendly enough, and even though Jake had learned a bit about how certain wizards felt about Mundanes, he wasn't cruel or hateful like; instead, his attitude had an undertone of amused tolerance. (1) That was irritating, but it was better than how Helen's father had treated him the few times they'd seen each other; he and Ashworth Barksdale did not get along, to put it mildly. The time that he'd called him a hippie lay-about who'd drag his daughter to ruin still rankled him even now.

Jake had buckled down after he'd left the hippie life behind him: he'd supported Helen while she went to law school and continued to support his wife and his three daughters to this day. If he wasn't the principle bread-winner in the Morgendorffer household, he did his best to pull his weight.

He thought about staying downstairs and waiting for Arcturus Black's response, then thought better of it. He was in London again for the first time again in over a decade—he should probably see some of the city. He knocked on his hotel room and opened it a crack so Daria could hear him. "Can I come in?" he said. 

-(((O-O)))— 

Arcturus still hadn't responded by the time that he and Daria came downstairs. "Let's go get lunch," he said.

Jake had thought to take Daria to someplace like a Wimpy Bar, someplace with safe, unsurprising food, but turned off Charing Cross Road and found himself in a Chinatown. He hadn't expected to find himself in one; certainly not this close to either Diagon Alley or to his hotel. He and Daria walked down the street marveling at the strange shops, the Chinese characters, and the people on the street.

They found a restaurant or, rather, they picked one out of several, went in, and were seated at a table. Jake's limited experience with Chinese restaurants taught him that most Chinese restaurants in the US had Chinese on one side, English on the other. He and Daria ordered three entrees: one for Daria, something spicy for him, and something he could eat if his selection didn't work out.

Jake hoped that the wait staff would understand him. They did, and furthermore the waitress serving him not only spoke English, but she spoke it with a Cockney accent. In spite of that, they were able to order and ate a filling lunch.

They returned to the hotel after lunch. Jake asked the clerk working the front desk if they'd gotten any messages. A couple of other guests had, but he hadn't.

At that point he decided that he and Daria were free to do some sight-seeing. He and Daria asked the clerk at the front desk about sight-seeing tours. Within the hour, they'd found a tour using an open-top tour bus. Despite the risk of sunburn on her pale skin, Daria chose to take a seat on the upper level.

Their tour bus had a very chatty tour guide who preferred to stay downstairs but gave adequate descriptions of the sights they'd pass, along with little bits of history to go along with them. Daria and Jake were again treated to Nelson's Column, but also Buckingham Palace, the National Gallery, the Houses of Parliament, St. Paul's Cathedral, and the Tower of London. It was while Jake's and Daria's tour bus was stopped for a traffic light that a large black crow flapped over their seat and dropped a letter. (2) Jake stared round-eyed at the crow while Daria bent over to pick up the letter. The bird looked at Jake and Daria and cawed.

"I think it wants something, Dad," said Daria. She turned around to look at some of the other passengers on the upper deck and saw an older teenaged girl on Goth street clothing sitting a couple of seats away. She'd been drinking some water from a plastic bottle.

The girl looked at the crow and said "What the F*ck?"

"Can I have your water bottle?" asked Daria.

"Ohh Kay," said the girl, handing her bottle to Daria. The girl had drunk about half of it.

"It might want some crackers," said an American tourist who was watching the spectacle. She reached into her purse and handed Daria some battered crackers in the sort of plastic wrapping served at cheap restaurants and fast food places. Daria opened the wrapping, gave some to the crow, then opened the water bottle, tilting it so the bird could drink. The crow drank a little, flapped its wings, cawed again, then flew away.

"How extraordinary," said an East Asian who'd been so fascinated by the spectacle that he'd forgotten to pull out his camera and take pictures.

"I wonder what that crow wanted," said a seedily-dressed American tourist who looked like he'd probably stayed at a hostel.

"Don't know," said Daria, handing the letter to her Dad.

The conversation came to a timely end when the tour guide pointed out yet another sight, this one to their right, causing most of the tourists to turn their heads, listen to their guide's description, and put aside thoughts about the crow. 

-(((O-O)))— 

Jake finally got a chance to read the note that the crow had brought him when the tour ended and Jake could plead that he needed to answer the call of nature. Once on the side of a locked door, he broke the seal and opened the envelope. Just as he'd thought, it was from Arcturus Black.

"_Dear Jacob,"_ the note began.

"_Welcome again to Britain. Miss Haddaway told me of some of your adventures in Diagon Alley. I was pleased to learn that both of you are bearing up well._

_I'd hoped to have a meal with you and little Daria, but it seems that just like Madam M., circumstances have moved beyond my control. I have business to attend to today and I just learned that an old acquaintance died and that I not only have attend his funeral, but his wake as well. The earliest I can hope to break away would be Saturday morning, a time when you and little D. will be on your way to King's Cross._

_I do hope Madam M's legal business comes to a satisfactory conclusion and that she will be able to spend a night or two in London._

_I am given to understand that you and little D. are touring the sights of Muggle London. I rather approve._

_Carry on, and I hope to meet you sometime before you have to return to America,_

_-A.B."_

_Well how about that_, thought Jake. He sighed, then smiled. Not so long ago, he'd have started ranting about old wizards and their ordering him around like a busboy, but his therapy sessions had caused him not to take life quite so seriously.

He still hoped that Helen would be able to join him for a couple of nights, even if it looked like the best he could hope for was a whirlwind visit before they'd both have to return home to Quinn, Veronica, and their lives in Highland, but he'd have to wait and see.

He'd enjoyed his tour and noted a couple of places he might want to re-visit later at a much slower pace. He was certain that Daria also had a couple of places she wanted to visit, too. 

-(((O-O)))— 

"Westminster Abbey," said Daria.

"Hunh?" said Jake.

"Westminster Abbey," said Daria. "The big church where the British crown their kings and queens. They also buried a lot of famous people there. I'd love to go see it."

Daria was embarrassed to admit it, but it was only a few years ago that she practically worshipped Princess Diana. Back in Highland, she and Cindy and Jesse used to read about the Princess of Wales' doings and wished they could be with her. Her fascination with Princess Diana had faded by the time that she had discovered that she was a witch, but to her annoyance she discovered that it was slowly making a comeback.

"OK, kiddo," said Jake. He was feeling a little tired but one more church wouldn't hurt.

It took them a while to make their way to the Abbey. They took the Underground instead of buses and emerged at the Westminster station.

They entered the church and both of them were awed by the interior: the stained glass, the soaring roof, the altars and the echoes of the church's interior. They felt a little lost inside, even though the church's layout was positively straightforward compared to some of the places they'd already seen in Diagon Alley. They saw a throne-like chair with a stone underneath the seat. An adjacent sign declared the chair and stone to be the Stone of Scone. Jake scratched his head; he'd remembered hearing something about it but had forgotten what it was.

"The Stone of Scone," said Daria. "The kings of Scotland had to sit on it or over it to officially become kings of Scotland."

A mischievous thought came to mind: _wouldn't it be fun to dip under the velvet rope, ignore the docent, and sit on the chair?_

She was of half a mind to act on her thought when she felt something, something from the stone itself, resist her attempt to get closer.

_Magic, maybe_, she thought. _Well, so much for _that_ idea._

"Miss, you aren't allowed to sit on the Stone," the docent said unnecessarily.

"I'm not going to try," said Daria.

She and Jake continued to wander around the church, then Daria started noticing names carved on the floor. She remembered that a lot of famous people were buried here: not just kings and queens, but also famous politicians, generals, scientists, and poets.

Many of the names on the floor were of famous writers and poets. I guess this must be Poet's Corner, she thought.

A man and his son were standing nearby, reading the names of some of the famous poets and authors buried there, and occasionally talking about them.

"Hello," said the man. "You're Americans, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Jake. "We're from Texas. My daughter is getting ready to go to boarding school in Scotland and we're doing some sight-seeing before we go."

"What school?" asked the man.

"The Howard School," said Daria. She'd learned that was a good cover name when talking about Hogwarts with Mundies who weren't in the know.

"My son goes to Fielding," said the man. The brown-haired boy made an embarrassed expression.

_He has remarkable green eyes_, Daria thought. A part of her murmured "He's kind of cute."

_Shut up_, she told it.

The man stuck out his hand. "I'm Angier Sloane of Lawndale, Maryland," he said. "This is my son Tom." (3)

"Jake Morgendorffer of Highland, Texas," said Jake. "This is my daughter Daria."

Something clicked in Jake's brain: _Sloane as in Grace, Sloan, and Page_? Wow. He decided not to press it. It wasn't like Tom Sloane was going to start dating Smidget or anything.

"Look at all these names," said Tom.

"It almost reads like a Who's Who of the important names in English literature," said Daria. "Except for the famous writers who aren't buried here."

Tom grinned in amusement. This Texas girl had a sharp sense of humor.

"You recognize those names, kiddo?" said Jake.

"I recognize a lot of them," Daria replied. "I haven't read that many of them. Besides it's not like they'd give their stuff for us to read for book reports at James Ferguson Elementary back in Highland."

"A lot of them seem to be missing," said Tom.

"I'm not surprised," said Daria. "Not everybody made the cut. It's not like they were going to bury HG Wells or George Bernard Shaw here."

"Lord Tennyson's buried here," said Tom.

"George Orwell isn't," said Daria. "AA Milne didn't make the cut, either. No Winnie-the-Pooh bedtime stories for you."

Tom grinned. He wasn't comfortable around girls, but this one was absolutely wicked.

"Sorry that Kay and Elsie aren't here," said Mr. Sloane. I think they'd enjoy your company but the girls are off shopping. It's just me and Tom here at Westminster. I think that your daughter and my Elsie would like each other."

"I'm surprised that you aren't back in school," said Daria.

"Mine doesn't start until the Fifth," said Tom. "My Mom and Dad decided that gave us enough time to make a quick trip to Britain and back before school starts."

"Lucky you," said Daria.

"When does yours start?" asked Tom.

"They want us on-campus Saturday night," said Daria.

"They don't trust you?" Tom said innocently.

"Probably not," Daria retorted.

Mr. Sloane's cell phone rang. "Ah, I see. Well, we'll be there in about half an hour."

"Tom, Kay and Elsie have finished their shopping and are on their way back to our hotel. We'd better be on our way, too."

"Jake, Daria, pleasure to meet you," said Mr. Sloane.

Pleasure to meet you, too," said Jake.

"Likewise," said Daria. She found herself beginning to blush looking at Tom. _Stop it_, she told herself.

"Maybe we'll see each other around again," said Tom.

_Probably not_, thought Daria. _Our lives are going in separate directions_. 

-(((O-O)))-

Footnotes:

1 In the _Daria Ravenclaw_ universe, "Mundanes" or "Mundies" has supplanted the term "No-Maj" in the North American wizarding community.

2 Ravens were used as well as owls as witches' and wizards' familiars and messengers in European myth. I see Arcturus Black as being sufficiently old-school that he'd still use ravens instead of owls, particularly for daylight message delivery.

3 Tom Sloane became Daria's boyfriend in later seasons of the canon _Daria_ cartoon show. He's about the same age as Daria here, and this Daria's playing field is going to be considerably different from her canon counterpart's.


	21. Last Minute Tours and Preparations

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter 21: Last Minute Tours and Preparations.

DISCLAIMER: At the risk of being repetitive, I wish to state that JK Rowling created Harry Potter and that Glen Eichler created Daria. I own neither franchise and I have no intention of financially profiting from this work. I'm writing this story to amuse myself. I hope you're amused, too.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

A hotel near Charing Cross Road  
London, UK  
Thursday August 30th, 1990

Jake:

Jake awoke early the next morning. _My biological clock must have reset to London time_, he thought bemusedly. He went to the bathroom, used the commode, then shaved and showered. He went back into the bedroom and changed into daywear.

The kiddo awoke an hour after he did. She acted very upset.

"What is it, Daria?" he said.

"Dad, I don't know how to tell you this but I think we screwed up," she said. "We really need to get moving. I haven't washed up or packed yet and we need to get to King's Cross Station by 10:30. The train leaves at 11:00."

Jake smiled and gave a sigh of relief. Helen had scolded him more than once for losing track of the dates and the time. He was glad to see wasn't the only one in the family who could do that.

"Relax, Smidget," he said. "It's Friday. We've still got a full day to do some more sight-seeing and then check at that Madam Malkin's place this afternoon to see if your robes are ready."

"Oh," said Daria, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, Dad."

"It happens," said Jake.

"Have you washed up yet?" she said.

"I went to the bathroom and showered while you were still sleeping," he said.

"I need to shower and dress," said Daria.

"I'll wait for you downstairs," said Jake.

Jake went downstairs while Daria freshened up and dressed. He had already eaten and was on his second cup of coffee when she came down. She looked like she was ready to play tourist.

"Good morning, kiddo," he said.

"Good morning, Dad," said Daria. "Sorry to be so bothered this morning."

"No sweat," said Jake. "What do you want to do today?

"I want to see the Tower of London and the British Museum," Daria replied.

"Sounds cool," said Jake.

-(((O-O)))—

Jake asked the clerk at the hotel's front desk about getting to the Tower and learned that there was a boat tour that they could use to get there. The tour had a one-way option he and Daria could use to get to the Tower, take their own time about seeing it, then use a taxi or public transport to return to their hotel.

The two of them took a taxi west to the tour boat's dock and bought last-minute tickets. For a little while it looked like they wouldn't be able to sit together, but a pair of side-by side seats became available when a party of no-shows failed to appear. The tour boat's captain chose not to wait. The mooring lines were undone and the boat cast off towards the Thames.

Jake marveled at the sites along the way. This was the way to travel: neither he nor Helen had seen London from the river when they'd visited London in 1978: they'd had little over a day and a half and had had to watch their money. The tour boat sailed by the HMS _Victory_, the World War II cruiser HMS _Belfast_, the Houses of Parliament and London Bridge. The _Victory_ and the _Belfast_ were both fascinating and Jake wondered how the sailors were able to stand months at sea in cramped, dangerous conditions. Daria was less taken and gazed at the sights in polite interest instead of wide-mouthed wonder. Then again, the kiddo was a girl, Jake reminded himself.

The tour boat eventually docked at a pier a bit east of the Tower. Jake heard Daria join the mostly teen-aged chorus of "Awws" of disappointment when the tour guide informed them that they wouldn't be entering by means of the Water Gate, the opening in the Tower's walls for traitors and prisoners brought there for torture and execution.

Jake later remembered his tour of the Tower as a mixture of fascination and horror. The Tower of London had once been the seat of the kings of England, then later as a visible center of royal might as the kings moved into palaces in London and elsewhere. Both he and the Smidget were awed by the crowns and the royal jewels and Jake was fascinated by the weaponry in the Armory, so much so that he had to admit that his time at Buxton Ridge still had its effects.

His daughter's reactions to some of the history and artifacts of the Tower were a little disturbing. Just seeing the infernal devices used to torture and execute prisoners made him shiver but Daria wore her Mona Lisa smile while the tour guides described the grisly fates of such famous prisoners as Anne Boleyn, Lady Jane Grey, and Sir Walter Raleigh and speculated about the fate of the two little princes during the final year of the War of the Roses. He saw that she was fascinated by a couple of the torture devices on display and guessed that she probably would have asked questions as to how they worked if a couple of teenaged boys hadn't asked them first.

At one point he saw Daria stop at nothing, say "Good morning," then mysteriously scowl and say "Well be that way, then!" She then blew a raspberry at whatever-it-was that only she could see. He remembered Helen telling him that both she and Daria could see ghosts. Helen usually ignored hers, but he wondered what this was about.

He decided to ask her. "What was that about, Daria?" he asked.

"A ghost," said Daria, her scowl replaced by a frown. "I tried to be polite but was told to "Get Lost" Elizabethan-style. So I blew her a raspberry." (1)

Jake chuckled. The kiddo's response was funny but disturbing, but still funny.

Their visit ended shortly after he'd managed to get pictures of himself and Daria posed next to a couple of the Beefeaters, older men drawn from the ranks of the British and Commonwealth militaries who served as ceremonial guardians of the Tower and of the Royal Jewels.

Daria had learned that the Yeoman Warders had a Ravenmaster and wondererd if the Tower's ravens could deliver messages like the one who'd delivered a letter to her Dad the day before. (2)

-(((O-O)))—

The two of them returned to their hotel not by water but by bus. While Jake had enjoyed the trip to the Tower he also preferred to do some of his sight-seeing without constantly-chattering tour guides.

It was now the early afternoon. Neither he nor Daria had eaten lunch. Jake wondered what time it was and realized that it was still relatively early in Helen's work day. He resolved to call her after he and Daria got back from another trip to Diagon Alley.

He decided to try the Leaky Cauldron's cooking again. Despite the fact that magic could make him uncomfortable, he did enjoy its atmosphere.

"Say kiddo," said Jake. "How would you like lunch at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"I'd love it," said Daria.

-(((O-O)))—

Daria and Jake walked over to the Leaky Cauldron. Jake had accepted that Daria could see the entrance to the Cauldron and he couldn't, so he let her find the entrance and contented himself with holding the door open so that she could go in. He then followed her inside.

The pub was crowded with a lot of frantic parents and their wizarding children: neither Daria nor Cuthbert were going to be the only students setting off for Hogwarts in the morning, and parents from all over the British Isles were making last-minute purchases in Diagon Alley.

Service was slow but Jake was able to flag down a bar maid and ordered fish and chips. A memory bobbed up to the surface from his previous trip to Britain: he and Helen had had something he thought was called "Buttered Beer" while they were staying there and he decided to ask if these guys had some.

He had just taken his second sip and started feeling nostalgic when Martha Haddaway threaded her way through the crowd and over to his table and said "Jake, Daria, there you are! I was afraid that I'd missed you and that you wouldn't be back from your wanderings until evening!"

"We thought we'd have lunch and then swing by Mrs. Malkin's place to see if Daria's clothing is ready," said Jake.

Martha sighed in surprise and relief. Mr. Morgendorffer tended to be high-strung and emotional but it was clear that he was tending to business. Arcturus Black would be pleased.

"So shouldn't you finish up so we can go to Madam Malkin's and pick up your daughter's things?" asked Martha.

Jake rolled up his sleeve and looked at his wrist-watch. "It's only a quarter to three," he replied. "We've still got a little time before they close, don't we? Want some chips? We have plenty."

Martha opened her mouth, then closed it. Abashed, she sat down. "I'll have a couple," she said.

-(((O-O)))-

Martha, Jake, and Daria were through the brick archway leading to Diagon Alley before the quarter hour and at Madam Malkin's shortly after that. The shop was a mad-house and it took both Jake's and Martha's efforts to first attract the attention of one of Madam Malkin's harried assistants and then get Daria's robes from wherever Madam Malkin or her assistants had stored them. Nor were they able to make a simple exit once they had Daria's robes and hat in hand. Madam Malkin's assistant insisted that Daria try on her robes before she'd allow her to accept delivery and Jake was pressed into service as a de-facto coat rack while Daria tried them on.

Jake had hoped to take a couple of pictures of Daria in her new outfit but realized that he wouldn't be able to pull it off. Not just Madam Malkin's but the area around it was just too crowded and he wouldn't be able to get a good shot of her without someone inserting their back or their side into the picture while he was pressing the shutter button.

"Well I'm glad that part's over!" said Martha. "How is Daria set for cash?"

Jake frowned. He hadn't really thought about it.

"She'll need some," said Martha. "While she might spend the winter break at Hogwarts, some one like your Fink-Nottle friends might invite her to spend her break with them instead of rattling around the Castle all by herself."

"Well, Helen and I do have accounts at McGillicuddy National Bank," said Jake. "They have British affiliates in London, Birmingham, and Edinburgh. In an emergency, Daria can get money from them." (3)

"That might work in the Muggle world," said Martha, "but I think she'll need an ample supply of wizarding coin."

"Let's go back to your hotel with these robes," said Martha. "You don't want to lose them in Gringott's."

"How?" said Jake. Martha smiled. Mr. Morgendorffer's mindset was still firmly planted in the Muggle world.

They returned to the hotel, walked up to Jake's and Daria's room, and dropped the robes on Daria's bed.

"I know this looks like a bother, but you'll see," said Martha.

The three of them crossed Charing Cross Road, passed through the Leaky Cauldron, then started walking towards Gringotts' Bank. "So how much is enough?" said Jake. His Dad had shipped him off to Buxton Ridge with no more than thirty dollars of cash. That would have proved inadequate, even if he hadn't had his meager reserve "confiscated" during a cadet inspection during his first or spent several miserable years following confined to campus.

He and Martha agreed on a figure. Daria looked skeptically at both of them and said "Hey, Dad, don't I get a say?"

"Not for this," said Jake. "Next year."

They got in line behind several wizarding families who also wanted access to their accounts. It took them a while to make their way to the head of the line and for Jake and Daria to learn about the difference between Goblin and Muggle banking. Jake and Daria learned that not only did Daria already had a vault in her name, but that he and Daria had to take a cart through a long series of tunnels to get to it.

To his surprise, he realized that in spite of the darkness and creepiness of the ride, he actually enjoyed it. He hadn't been on a roller coaster in years: this trip made him think of some of the roller coaster rides he'd taken with his older brother before his brother had left the house. He hadn't ridden in one since he'd married Helen; he'd taken Helen on a couple of rides while they were courting and she'd hated them.

The cart slowed down to a stop in front of a vault. The Goblin bank clerk, a dark-haired guy with sharp teeth and claws instead of fingernails named Dirk, asked him for his lamp and vault key. As Dirk was unlocking the vault, Jake remembered that there was an amusement park near Abilene and wondered if either of his other two girls would like to try out a roller-coaster ride when he got home. Quinn probably wouldn't, but an image of Veronica grinning and squealing with delight formed in front of him.

Veronica was still only five, he remembered. She'd have to wait a couple more years.

The Goblin unlocked the vault door. Jake walked over and started gathering a couple of stacks of coins. Martha, Jake, and Daria left Gringotts with a couple of money-pouches filled with coins.

"There, that should do it," said Martha. "You'll be ready to go to King's Cross tomorrow morning so Daria can board the train."

-(((O-O)))—

They returned to the hotel, Daria's wizarding cash clinking in their pockets.

The clerk waved him over as he passed the front desk. "Mr. Morgendorffer," she said, "you have a message." She handed him an envelope. It was from Helen.

Jake stepped out into the hall and opened it while Daria was washing up before dinner.

"_Jake,"_ it read.

"_They settled. I wish they'd done it earlier so I could be with you when you put Daria on the train tomorrow. I am coming over anyway; AB sounds like he wants face-time with both of us; I'll arrive on Saturday afternoon and I'll meet you at your hotel._

"_Quinn and Ronnie will be fine. The Nanny will watch both of them during the Labor Day weekend._

"_I'm sorry that I couldn't get away sooner. Two nights in London isn't nearly enough._

"_I hope we can meet AB before we both head back for home._

"_Love you,_

_Helen."_

-(((O-O)))—

Footnotes:

The ghost said "Aroint thee, Witch!" CF William Shakespeare, _Macbeth_.

The Tower of London really _does_ have a Ravenmaster. No, they aren't used to carry messages; their wings are clipped and they can't fly. Eleven year-old Daria guessed wrong.

I stole the name McGillicuddy from a famous _I Love Lucy_ episode. I suspect that some Texas McGillicuddy forebear decided that banking among the ranches and oil fields of West Texas was safer than remaining home.

A dirk is a long thrusting dagger and also a traditional side-arm for Scottish Highlanders. I thought that having a Goblin named Dirk would be cool.


	22. The Hogwarts Express

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter Twenty Two: The Hogwarts Express

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise. I am writing this work of fiction for my own amusement, not in any expectation of any financial gain.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Daria woke up to her Dad gently shaking her awake.

"Good morning, kiddo," said Jake.

"Hunh, wha-," said Daria.

"It's time to get up," said Jake.

Daria laid in her bed and looked grumpy. "All right," she said. She fumbled around for her glasses on the side table between the two beds and put them on.

Neither of them talked about Hogwarts. Both of them knew that it was September first and that she'd be boarding the Hogwarts Express for school later that morning.

It was 8:00. _Plenty of time_, she thought. Daria looked at her Dad to see if he'd slept late and saw that he was already dressed and wearing street clothes. "I've already washed," he said. "I'll go downstairs and leave you to it." He walked over to their door and stepped out.

Daria opened her suitcase and laid out her uniform. Martha had told her that she needn't bother with the black robe and hat when she boarded the train. Most students either wore their "under-uniforms," as they called them or even their street clothing, changing only when they arrived at Hogsmeade, the station that served Hogwarts.

She dried off, walked to her bed, and studied it. _Well, here goes_, she thought. She put it on and went downstairs.

The hotel's breakfast area was already busy when she got downstairs. There were several families with kids near her age. Some were in school uniform, others were wearing street clothing. Of those, only a couple were dressed in what Daria was learning to recognize as wizarding clothing. The kids' school uniforms looked slightly different. The older kids wore uniforms edged in yellow and black or red and yellow or blue and silver while kids her age wore uniforms without any trimming. She wondered why this was so.

The buffet's breakfast selections had already been picked over when Daria arrived downstairs. There were signs next to the buffet saying that breakfast was ending earlier than usual today and that packed lunches would be available starting at 9:30.

A slightly-older girl wearing a Hogwarts uniform trimmed in yellow and black looked at her and smiled while Daria reached for a cup of yogurt and looked at her speculatively.

"First year?" she asked.

"Yes," said Daria. "If I don't miss the train." _She_ did _have her ticket_, she thought.

"The trick is to arrive early," said the older girl. "Try to be on the platform no later than half an hour before eleven and seated before a quarter till and you won't miss it."

"Thanks," said Daria.

"See you at school," the older girl replied. She might have introduced herself but her dad called her back to their table.

Jake and Daria ate a quiet breakfast at a small table next to a wall.

"Well, today's the big day," said Jake.

Daria nodded.

"Scared?" asked Jake.

"A little," Daria replied. "I don't think it'll be like Buxton Ridge."

"I hope not," said Jake. "If they try to dump that much crap on you, I'll come over and be waiting for you at the school's entrance to bring you home."

Daria smiled.

"Actually, I think you'll do fine," said Jake. "They'll never know what hit them."

-(((O-O)))—

They went back upstairs and Daria finished packing. Despite packing all of her clothing as well as toiletries, textbooks, cauldron, and a telescope, everything fit in. Jake lifted the suitcase and was amazed at how light it seemed. If he didn't know any better, he'd have guessed that it weighed no more than 35 pounds.

Jake and Daria took a taxi from the hotel to King's Cross station. Jake paid the driver, they got out and found a luggage cart to hold Daria's trunk and the carry-bag that held the sack lunch she planned to eat on the train. They didn't head directly to the platforms; instead , they stopped at a news stand and Daria bought a paperback and a couple of bottles of water.

They took the platform crossing the tracks, descended to the platform between Tracks Nine and Ten and found Ed Fink-Nottle standing next to a masonry pier. Ed wasn't alone; he was accompanied by a sandy-haired man wearing a long wizarding-style jacket. Jake thought that Ed's smile looked like the cat's who'd just swallowed the canary.

"Edgar!" said Jake.

"Jacob!" Ed replied. "Here to send Daria off on the Express?"

"Yeah," said Jacob, his happy-face slipping a little. "I was told this was as far as guys like me could come."

"That is what I was told, too," said Ed. "But Isaac here told me that there's a work-around so you can actually see the train. It has a working steam locomotive."

Ed looked thoughtful for a moment. "Oh, you haven't met. Isaac, this is Jacob Morgendorffer and his daughter Daria. Jacob, this is Isaac Coombs. His youngest is a first year." Jake and Isaac shook hands.

"So you want to see the engine like Edgar?" said Isaac.

"Yeah," said Jake.

"Ordinarily, Muggles can't pass through the barrier concealing Platform 9 ¾," said Isaac. "Like Edgar said, there is what he calls a work-around. If they are in the company of a witch or a wizard, they can walk through the barrier and step out onto the platform together. Watch us and follow."

Jake watched with amazement as Edgar and his new friends strode right through the masonry.

"We can do this, kiddo!" exclaimed Jake. "Let's do it together!" He and Daria pushed the luggage cart at a trot, Jake half-expecting to be jarred by the impact of luggage cart against the brickwork of the station arches. Instead, he and Daria succeeded in pushing through a barrier to a part of the railway station he hadn't noticed before. He felt an unfamiliar thrill of elation as he did so; like he'd burst through one of the many barriers he'd feared that would trap him for the rest of his life.

He looked around and saw a bright red steam locomotive with a black smoke-box at the edge of the platform. The engine had a sign mounted over the smokebox door "The Hogwarts Express." He looked back at the stone archway and saw the sign: Platform 9 ¾. He'd done it. There was a steaming passenger train with a handsome red and black steam engine on the front end.

"Bravo, Jacob! Bravo, Daria!" said Edgar.

"You're now part of a very elite club," said Mr. Coombs. "Very few Muggles have ever seen the Hogwarts Express."

Jake smiled at him.

"In case you're wondering, I'm told that the current locomotive is a Britannia-class Pacific," said Isaac.

"I can show you more," said Edgar. "There's an unmagical museum at Didcot. It's an easy ride from Paddington Station. You can tag along, Jacob."

"I'd love to, but Helen is coming in this afternoon," Jake replied.

"Family comes first," said Edgar. "Say hello for me, would you? I'd love to see her, but Camille expects me to come straight home after Didcot. How long are you going to remain in Britain?"

"We go home late Sunday evening," Jake replied. "A red-eye flight."

"That's too bad," said Edgar. "Hopefully we can do it together another time."

Jake checked the old-fashioned clock mounted on the wall of the station. It said 10:45. The train wasn't supposed to leave until 11:00, so he could get on board.

"Hey, kiddo, got everything?" said Jake, turning his attention to Daria.

"Yes, Dad," said Daria a little impatiently.

"Let's get your stuff stowed," said Jake.

"You might want to try one of the cars nearer the rear of the train," Isaac called out. "The ones near the locomotive tend to fill up first."

"Thanks!" said Jake. He and Daria walked down the platform, boarding the train at one of the second-to-last car's doors. They walked down the corridor, pausing at the door of a half-full compartment with a window that faced the station platform, not away from it.

"Excuse me," said Jake. "Are all the seats taken?"

"No, there are still a couple free," said a pleasant-faced girl about Daria's age.

"Thanks!" said Jake. He picked up Daria's suitcase and put it on the luggage rack.

_Well, I guess this is it_, thought Jake, feeling tears forming at the edge of his eyes. "Take care, Smidget," he said. "Have a good year. I look forward to seeing you in June. I love you." He gave Daria a hug, then turned around. He carefully made his way down the corridor, sliding around a witch and a couple of wizards who shot him dirty looks.

_Can't please everybody_, thought Jake. _So I'm a friggin' Muggle? Well_ my _daughter is going to be a Hogwarts student and she's going to smoke your lazy privileged kids' asses!_

He stepped back on to the station platform, turned around and looked at his daughter with tears in his eyes. The locomotive gave a high-pitched whistle and the train gently lurched into motion. The train slowly chuffed away from the platform. Jake got one last glimpse of Daria waving at him from the compartment window, then turned away with tears in his eyes.

-(((O-O)))—

Daria sat down in her seat. _Well, I'm on the train_, she thought. The compartment door opened a couple of minutes later and a couple of older wizards opened the door, stepped inside, and briefly stared speculatively at Daria.

"Merlin's beard, she _**does**_ look like a Barksdale, doesn't she?" the younger wizard said to the older one.

"Your pardon, ladies," said the older wizard. "We have the wrong compartment." He opened the door and both wizards stepped out.

"I wonder what that was about?" said one of Daria's new seat-mates.

"Don't ask me," Daria replied, "even if my Mom was a Barksdale."

"So what's your name?" said the girl.

"Daria Morgendorffer," said Daria.

"Canadian?" asked the girl.

"No, I'm American," said Daria. "I'm from Texas."

"Are you a Pure-Blood?" asked the girl.

"I don't know," said Daria. "What's the difference?"

"Well, if you have to ask, you don't know," said the girl haughtily. She looked around the compartment and sniffed, not liking the looks of the other girls in the compartment.

"Well I have better things to do than spend seven hours in a compartment with a clutch of stupid Muggle-borns and half-breeds," she said. The girl got up and left the compartment.

"_Snob,"_ thought Daria.

Daria turned to one of the girls who remained in the compartment. "What's _her_ problem?" she asked.

"Good riddance," said one of the girls who remained. She looked like she was sitting with her older sister.

"Oh, I'm Dahlia Banks," she said, introducing herself. "This is my older sister Violet."

"Hello, I'm Daria Morgendorffer," Daria replied.

"I'm Megan Leeward," said the plain-faced girl.

"That girl who just left was probably a pure-blood," said Dahlia. "They're almost always from old families that have been witches and wizards for centuries and they think they're better than everybody else. But they're not, really. My Mum and my Da say so."

"My Mom isn't a witch," said Daria. "She's a darn good lawyer, though."

"So was your father a wizard, then?" asked the girl.

"No, my dad works in a wholesale supply company," said Daria. "He wants to get into advertising."

"So you're Muggle-born, then," said the girl.

"I guess so," said Daria.

"You must be a first-year like me," said Dahlia.

"Yes," said Daria, "how can you tell?" She wished she could say that she could be more cool about it, but she definitely felt alone and out of her element.

"Unsorted First-years wear black ties and their uniforms lack striping," Violet replied.

"Do you have any sisters or brothers, Daria?" asked Violet.

"I have two younger sisters," said Daria. "Quinn and Veronica."

"I'm the middle child," said Violet. "I have an older brother, but he moved out of the house after he completed school last year. Dahlia here is my younger sister."

Their conversation was interrupted by a blast from the locomotive's whistle. The train gently lurched into motion.

"Excuse me," said Daria. The plain-faced girl stood up, too, both of them trying to wave at their parents. The plain-faced girl's parents must have been in the crowd on the platform near the middle of the train while Jake was up front with Mr. Fink-Nottle next to where the locomotive had been parked.

Megan and Daria both sat down and Violet tried to restart the conversation again. "Do you know what House you're going to be in?" she asked.

"I don't know," said Daria. "This is all new to me. I got partway through _Hogwarts:_ _A History_, so I know about the houses, but I don't claim to know very much. I think I'd like to be a Ravenclaw, but I don't know if I'm smart enough."

"So what were you doing instead of learning the fine points about Hogwarts' glorious and noble history?" said Violet.

"I was busy boning up on magic potions," said Daria. "The ladies who came to talk to me and my parents about my magic said that I ought to start learning potion-making and that I'd better learn as much as I can."

The older sister shot her younger sister a knowing look. Daria wondered what that was about.

The plain-looking girl also seated in the compartment had been left out of the conversation.

The girls continued to talk about their families. Violet, Dahlia, and Megan grew up in magical households. Megan had older and younger sisters as well as a younger brother.

Daria soon learned that Megan had a good heart. She noted that Megan had a slight resemblance to Nancy Carrew, but despite the slight resemblance, Megan was good people.

"So what do you know about recent wizarding history?" asked Violet.

"No much," said Daria. "I know that you all had a horrible wizarding war while the biggest things in North America were that the Rappaport Law got repealed in the 1960's and that a couple of new wizarding schools opened up. Highland isn't quite the back of beyond, but we're definitely out in the boondocks."

"You might want to study up on the Wizarding War if you stay at Hogwarts," Violet said seriously. "We're still dealing with effects."

"So who started it?" asked Daria.

"I won't tell you his name, but his followers called him the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord and his followers believed that not only children from magical families should be allowed to learn magic, but that children born to non-magical families should be hunted down and killed.

"That's horrible," said Daria.

"It _was_ horrible," said Violet. "Our parents weren't directly involved in it, but everyone was frightened to death. Nobody knew if the Death Eaters were after you and nobody could really trust anyone else. Kids like us didn't dare go out or visit Muggle places like movie theaters or pinball arcades they might "

"When did it end?" said Daria. _If it's still going on, I don't care, I'm just doing one semester at Hogwarts, then I'm coming straight back home,_ she thought.

"It ended in November of 1981, just after the Dark Lord disappeared," said Violet.

_Whew_, thought Daria. _That's a relief_.

"There are some people around who still agree with the Dark Lord's position," said Violet. "They're called Pure Blood Supremacists."

Violet might have said more but she was interrupted by a knock on their compartment door. A pair of tall and good-looking red-headed boys stepped inside. Daria thought their clothing looked a little ragged but they had charm to compensate.

"Hello, ladies," said one of them.

"Those are Fred and George Weasley," said Violet. "They're tricky. I wouldn't trust anything they'd hand you."

"Miss Banks, how could you say such things?" said one of the twins. "You wound me," said the other.

"You're beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch team," said Violet. "You're tougher than you look. I expect you'll live."

The Weasley brothers left in disarray. Violet got up and made sure that their compartment door was shut.

-((O-O)))—

The train continued to roll along. Daria wondered if the Hogwarts Express shared its route with British Railways or if it had its own tracks. That was the sort of question Mr. Fink-Nottle might know the answer to, but she suspected that he probably didn't know the answer either.

There was a knock on their compartment door and a girl wearing a Hogwarts uniform with green and silver trim opened their door and stepped in, a nervous-looking first-year girl in tow. The older girl wore a green badge that said PREFECT.

"I found this chit wandering up and down the corridors looking lost. You lot don't seem choosy about your company, you take her," she said, practically shoving the girl into their compartment. The prefect turned around and left. Daria scowled at her back.

"Hello," said Violet. "How do you do? I'm Violet Banks. I promise that we don't bite."

"I'm Majda Paderewsky," said the girl.

"Well, sit down and have a seat," said Violet.

Majda sat down. The girls introduced themselves again and shared a little about themselves. Majda was surprised that Daria was from Texas and asked the inevitable questions that Daria had been dreading. "What do you know about cowboys?" she asked. "Have you ever ridden a horse yourself?"

_Damn_, thought Daria.

"I don't know that much about cowboys," said Daria, "but I have been to ranches and rodeos a few times, and I have ridden a horse once or twice." Laura Penrick had gotten her to ride an easy-going mare several times after her second time on Goliath. Daria told the girls about a couple of rodeo sports such as roping and barrel racing, as well as her helping with sheep-shearing.

"So you raise sheep, too!" said Megan. "I thought that Texas was too hot for sheep."

"We raise sheep," Daria replied. "And goats."

"You said that you took potion-making classes before you came here," said Violet. "Are there a lot of witches and wizards in your town?"

"I don't know what counts as "a lot"," said Daria. "More than most places in west Texas, I'd guess. Certainly more than in the bigger towns nearby."

"Do the witches in your part of the world live in town?" Megan asked.

"Actually, a lot of them live out in the country," said Daria. "Mrs. Ocampo lived in town, though."

"Who was Mrs. Ocampo?" asked Violet.

"My first potion-making teacher," said Daria.

"Ocampo. That doesn't sound like an American name," said Violet. "It sounds Spanish."

"It is," said Daria. "A lot of people in the western US had family who originally came from Mexico."

The conversation hit a lull shortly afterwards. Daria decided that it was lunch time. So did Violet, Dahlia, and Megan.

Poor Majda hadn't brought any lunch. Daria and Megan shared part of their lunch with her.

"My Mum always prepares way more than I use," said Megan. "If I ate as much as she prepared for me, I'd be incredibly fat."

"You aren't worried if it's not Kosher, are you?" said Daria, handing Majda a spare apple.

"My family originally came from Poland," Majda replied stiffly.

"My Dad's family was Jewish," said Daria. "That's why I asked."

Despite their prickly introductions, Daria and Majda talked a little about their families. Her grandfather had been part of the Polish army and chose to remain in Britain after World War II rather than return to Poland and face arrest and imprisonment under Poland's Stalinist government. Daria shared about Mad Dog Morgendorffer, making Majda and Dahlia laugh about Nathan Morgendorffer's nickname. Majda was a little disappointed to learn that the Mad Dog had fought in the Pacific Theater and not the Atlantic.

"I need to check on something," said Daria. She got up from her seat, opened the compartment door and stepped out into the corridor.

She walked to the end of the car, peering into the compartments. Most of them were occupied by older students, but not by the boy she was looking for.

She found him in the next car. Cuthbert Fink-Nottle was seated in a compartment full-up with boys his age and in animated conversation with his seat-mates. Daria briefly wondered what Cuthbert and his new friends were talking about. _Probably not fish_, she thought.

She tapped on the window of his compartment, then opened the door.

"Oh, hallo, Daria!" he said. "How are you?"

"Doing OK," said Daria. "I just wanted to make sure that you hadn't fallen off the train."

A couple of Cuthbert's seat-mates laughed.

"Guys, this is Daria Morgendorffer," said Cuthbert. "She's also from that Texas town I lived in. She's going to Hogwarts, too."

"She doesn't look like a cowgirl," said one of Cuthbert's compartment-mates. "She doesn't sound like one either."

"Only when Ah want to, buckaroo," Daria replied deadpan, making the boys erupt in laughter.

"So where are you seated, Daria?" asked Cuthbert.

"With a bunch of girls in the next car," Daria replied. "Good to see you."

"And you, too," said Cuthbert. "See you in Hogwarts Castle."

"Later," said Daria, making her Mona Lisa smile. Cuthbert seemed to be doing fine.

The sky grew darker as the afternoon wore on. The girls started to feel sleepy and began napping, the train's motion rocking them to sleep.

Violet awoke from her nap and looked at the sky. She reached into her pocket, looked at the sky, and frowned. "Dahlia, the sun is setting. We'd all better get ready. The train will be arriving at Hogsmeade in about an hour."

The young girls closed the curtains on their compartment and began to change into their school robes. It was a little crowded in the compartment, so the girls took turns pulling down their suitcases and pulling out their black cloaks and hats.

Daria pulled out her pocket watch and synched the time with her digital watch.

"You know that most electrical things don't work near Hogwarts," said Violet. "I hope that isn't an electronic watch. Most electronic things don't work near Hogwarts or near Hogsmeade. One of my mates brought a Walkman and a big stack of cassette tapes with her favorite Muggle music with her and was crushed when she learned that her Walkman wouldn't work."

"No, my pocket watch is mechanical and analogue," said Daria. "I got the heads-up in time."

"It looks like an antique," said Violet.

"It is," said Daria. "It's an old railroader's watch. I found it at a flea market, then had it repaired."

The sky had darkened further. Daria looked at her pocket watch. It was about half-past six.

The terrain was very rugged. The train ran through steep hillsides and over steep gorges. Daria had never seen anything quite like it, not even when her family had driven to Big Bend.

The weather was already cloudy and it started raining as the sun was setting. Twilight was fading into night when Daria got a glimpse of a large but distant lake. _This is Scotland_, she thought. _Don't they call all lakes lochs or just the big ones?_

"Hogsmeade station!" said a loud, authoritative voice. "Hogsmeade station in ten minutes! Everyone is to get off the train! Leave your luggage and your things on the train. They will be delivered to you at school!"

The train slowed down, slowing first to what Daria would have called a fast trot, then a slow amble. Daria got a glimpse of a brightly-lit castle across a dark lake.

The train, already moving slowly, came to a complete stop. Daria heard the noise of compartment doors opening and dozens of students heading for the exits. She looked out the window and saw the lights of a small railway station. There wasn't that much to see in the gloom. The lighting was dimmer than she expected but she could read a name on the signboard: "Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade station! Hogsmeade station!" called a loud, authoritative voice. "Everyone off the train! Leave your luggage and your things on the train. They will be delivered to you at school!"

-(((O-O)))-

Author's Notes: The events of Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl occur the school year BEFORE Harry Potter enrolls at Hogwarts.

Also, this story is set in a slightly-different parallel universe, so don't expect things to exactly follow what happened in the Harry Potter movies or in JK Rowling's books.


	23. Boating Across the Loch

Daria Owlyear Boating Across the Loch

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise. I neither expect nor deserve any sort of financial recompense for this work of fiction: such rights belong to the original owners. I am writing for my own amusement.

Author's Note: I meant to have this chapter before I uploaded I lost track of it and uploaded the following chapter without uploading this chapter to my story. My apologies. 

Daria Ravenclaw: The Hogwarts Years*Daria Ravenclaw: The Hogwarts Years* Daria Ravenclaw: The Hogwarts Years.

The girls didn't exit their compartment immediately. Instead, they waited for the crowd of students to thin, then opened their compartment door and left the train.

The area around Hogsmeade station was dark and gloomy, despite old-fashioned gas lamps illuminating the station and the platform. Daria noted that he station platform was damp with rain-water. There was now a crowd of students on the platform. Some seemed to be drifting to the edge of the platform where Daria thought she could see a path leading downhill.

"This is where we part ways, Dahlia," said Violet. "You'll be going with Hagrid and the First Years; I'll be going with the older girls."

_So_, thought Daria, _the first years will be making their way separately to the school from other students_.

Daria could follow by context. She, like Dahlia, was also a First Year. She'd also be following the other first years.

"First years! First years this way!" boomed a loud male voice.

Daria had been facing away from the station to see a couple of late-comers descend from the train. She turned around to face whoever-it-was who was giving instructions. He was looked like a giant. The guy was huge, not just tall, but broad, too. He was also holding a lantern. She decided to trust him and followed him and the crowd of first years he was leading down a path leading away from the railway station.

They went down a little path down from the railway station to the pebbly shores of what to Daria looked like a huge lake. She again saw the castle she'd glimpsed from the train. It was what dark castle with brightly-lit windows sitting across a dark, wide lake. The effect wasn't Disney, but it was beautiful anyway.

There was a large fleet of small boats waiting for them there, each with its own lantern to provide light.

Daria looked dubiously at the fleet of small boats, then sidled up to Hagrid. "We don't need life preservers with these things, do we?" she asked.

"No, you don't need 'em," Hagrid replied. "Safe as houses, these boats are."

"_That's what they said about the_ Titanic," thought Daria darkly.

"Oi!" shouted Hagrid, shouting to some students who had already clambered onto a nearby boat.. "No more than four in a boat!"

Daria saw that the boats nearest Hagrid were already filling up. Daria wondered if some of the kids already knew what was coming as opposed to kids like her who were coming at all of this cold. Probably; Violet and Megan told her that magic tended to run in certain families and parents and sisters probably told younger members what to expect when they got to Hogwarts. Daria carefully walked down the pebbly beach and went to the first boat that wasn't already full-up.

"This boat is reserved for Purebloods. No mud-bloods allowed," the girl at the front of the boat said haughtily. The other girl in the boat sniggered in amusement.

Daria looked at her, scowled, thought of a phrase she'd heard from Cole Snopes back in Highland that would have gotten her mouth washed out with soap several years earlier, and walked on. She thought of a phrase she'd heard from Cole Snopes that might still get her mouth washed out with soap if her mother heard it, and walked on.

_And if I hear any crap about Purebloods, I'm going to reach into the boat and throw her butt onto the beach,_ she thought darkly.

Daria started walking down the beach to find a boat with space in it. She was not finding a boat she liked. _Full, Full, three guys, I don't like the looks of those kids, maybe one of the empty ones on the end…,_ she thought.

She almost passed the next boat when a familiar voice called to her: "Hallo, Daria, why don't you join us?" She looked in the direction of the voice and saw Megan, Majda and Dahlia in a boat smiling at her.

"Thanks," said Daria, and got in.

Daria was going to keep the hat off, but it was chillier on the water than she thought it would be, so she put it on anyway.

"I'll take the lantern," said Megan.

By now it looked like just about every kid had found a boat and boarded it. Daria wondered if one of them would have to get out of the boat and risk getting their shoes wet. Daria was just getting ready to step out of the boat and give it a shove when it slid into the water.

The boats began moving across the water towards the castle on the opposite shore. _No propellers, no motors_, thought Daria. The effect was better than Disney. It wasn't just beautiful, but magical, and lacking that saccharin element that Hollywood directors put into kid's movies that drove her up the wall.

The fleet of small boats drew closer and closer to the great castle. _Now this was_ _something_, thought Daria, who impressed a lot less easily than most eleven-year-olds. The fleet of boats passed more than halfway across the lake drawing closer to the castle itself. The castle didn't just look magical but it looked like it _belonged_ here, which a lot of buildings in Highland didn't. Daria smiled in contentment. She'd seen bigger hills and rock formations even in Texas, but the view of the window-lit castle perched atop the sheer cliff face was so marvelous that she was sure she'd remember this for the rest of her life.

It briefly rained again. Fortunately, the shower was brief, although it was more than enough to dampen her outer robe and her jacket.

The cliff face made her worry. She didn't see anything that looked like a beach or landing below the castle. Surely they weren't going to smash into the cliff face, were they? She briefly had a vision of some idiots throwing down ropes and then expecting her and her classmates to scale them like some idiotic exercise her Dad had had to go through back at Buxton Ridge.

_Surely not_, she hoped.

"Heads down!" boomed Hagrid as the first boats drew close to the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening she hadn't seen. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

Hagrid's attention seemed split between the boats on the beach and the crowd of first-years forming around him.

"Oi, you people," shouted Hagrid. "Everybody out of the boats?"

There was a scattered chorus of yeses as the children finished clambering out of the boats and clumped together. He waited a couple of minutes, then shouted "Firs' years follow me, then!"

They followed the lantern-carrying giant up a narrow rocky passage coming out onto a small. Neatly-trimmed lawn leading to a set of steps. A pair of big, iron-bound doors were just beyond them. Everyone, even the snobby Purebloods, were too awed to say anything.

The door swung open almost immediately. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Daria felt cowed. She decided that she wasn't going to give this woman any trouble, at least not tonight.

"I brought the firs' years," said Hagrid. "A little wet, but not much the worse."

"Thank you, Hagrid," said the witch. "I'll take them upstairs."

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room."

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will cost your house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points earns the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as best you can while you are waiting."

"I will return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait here quietly."

-(((O-O)))—

Note: I pilfered the Snopes family name from William Faulkner, although Cole Snopes is not meant to be any character in Faulkner canon. Still, Cole was named much the way most late nineteenth and twentieth-century Snopes were named. His full name is Colmar Pocket Snopes and, as you can guess, his father was a World War II veteran. His younger daughter's name is Mekong Delta Snopes, and she will start babysitting Quinn and Veronica Morgendorffer this year.


	24. The Sorting Ceremony

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter 22: The Sorting Ceremony

DISCLAIMER: _Daria_ is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ and its characters are the creation of JK Rowling and are the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. The Fink-Nottle and Mulliner surnames might still belong to the Estate of PG Wodehouse, but none of the characters with those surnames are meant to be Wodehouse characters (The Wodehouse characters have gone off to their eternal reward).

I am writing for my amusement, not for commercial gain.

Rater "T" for language. This version of Daria has a potty mouth when she really gets angry (But then again she _was_ raised in the Oil Patch).

My apologies to my readers. I posted this chapter without posting what is the preceding chapter first. The proper order is Hogwarts Express, Boating Across the Loch, then The Sorting Ceremony

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl 

Professor McGonagall closed the doors and went back into the Great Hall. Megan started fidgeting under her robe as if she was trying to find something. "Oh, Bugger!" said Megan. "I forgot my comb!"

"No sweat," said Daria. "I put two in my coat pocket." She pulled out her spare and gave it to Megan.

Megan smiled her thanks and began frantically combing her hair.

Daria had not had that much of an opportunity to look over her classmates since she boarded at King's Cross station. She'd first had to penetrate the barrier at Platform 9 ¾, find a compartment, and then after a long train ride, make her way from Hogsmeade station down to the boats. Now in the small anteroom next to the great hall, she did.

"Hey, Cuthbert," said Daria.

"Hey, Daria," Cuthbert replied.

"Safe again on solid ground," Daria quipped.

"That's because you lubbers don't know anything about boats," Cuthbert snarked back. Daria and Cuthbert had spent their train trip apart from King's Cross to Hogsmeade: Cuthbert had found some fellow first-years and had spent their train trip talking about sports, video games, comic books, and other guy stuff while Megan, the Banks sisters and Majda Paderewsky were trying to make friends with her.

Megan looked in wide-eyed surprise at Daria and Cuthbert. "Do you two know each other?" she asked.

"We go back," said Daria. "Cuthbert and I went to the same school for almost two years."

"A magical school?" asked Dahlia.

"No, just a garden-variety public school in Highland, Texas. We were there for two years."

"What was he doing in Texas?" asked Dahlia.

"His Dad was there for his work," said Daria, squelching Cuthbert's reply. Daria never asked Mr. Fink-Nottle just what his job was but suspected that it had something to do with aero-space avionics and was classified "Secret" six ways to breakfast. Daria wanted to make sure that Cuthbert didn't get into trouble. She was just beginning to relax a little when _something_ gave the back of her head a smack and then lifted her cap off her head.

Daria liked to think of herself as being cool and collected, but the smack took her flash back to James Ferguson Elementary School and the Three Stooges' reign of terror, when younger and smaller kids were tormented by the bigger, older bullies. (1)

"HEY!" Daria shouted.

Her yell was met with gales of high, cackling laughter from what looked like a little man dressed in Medieval fool's clothing moving about well above arm's reach.

"Ickle firsties!" the little man cried with glee, then swooped through the newcomers, swatting heads, tugging hair, pulling at skirt hems and trouser legs, causing them to start yelling and squealing in panic.

Daria scowled balefully at whatever-it-was. She had had to put up with the Three Stooges' crap back in Highland, but she was older now and this time she had magic. She drew her wand. She didn't have to put up with this stuff, and neither did her peers.

The little man looped, then dove again through the first-years, setting off more squeals and screams of fright and panic. Daria looked at the little shit and tried to line up a good shot, but he was too fast and too tricky for her line up a hex that wouldn't hit her classmates.

She was still angry. "I'LL KICK YOUR ASS, YOU LITTLE F***ER!" she yelled.

She was trying to line up another shot on her classmates' little tormentor when the doors to the Great Hall swung open and the rest of her classmates fell silent.

"PEEEVES!" roared a loud, adult voice. The little man ceased what he was doing, then disappeared with a sudden, loud pop. Two adults looked down sternly at the frightened children. One of the adults was Professor McGonagall. The other was Headmaster Dumbledore.

Meeting their gaze, Daria meekly lowered her wand.

"That's enough of that," said the Headmaster. "Peeves is a poltergeist and will mind his P's and Q's for the remainder of this evening."

"There will be no interrupting the Sorting Ceremony or the Welcoming Banquet." (2)

"Students will comport themselves properly," Professor McGonagall added. "And no foul language."

Daria got the message. She hoped that Peeves got the message, too.

The Headmaster and Professor McGonagall continued the stare-down for what seemed like five minutes more. Daria felt thoroughly cowed. So did her classmates. The Headmaster turned away and walked back towards the High Table at the front of the Great Hall.

"Children, I again suggest that you freshen up," said Professor McGonagall.

Several of Daria's classmates made some hasty last-minute adjustments. Daria put her hand to her hair and decided that it was still orderly enough. When Professor McGonagall decided that they were fresh enough, she swept her gaze over them and said "Now follow me."

The doors opened and Daria, Megan, Majda, and Dahlia all fell into line as the new First Years entered the Great Hall. The line of new students stopped at the edge of four long tables, each occupied by students wearing neckties with different trimmings. Ahead of them was the High Table, occupied by the school's headmaster and faculty, but between the High table and the new students was a battered old wizard's hat placed on top of a simple wooden stool.

The long tables and the one in front fell silent. To Daria's surprise, the hat began to sing.

_You're newly-come to Hogwarts School  
You see me seated on a stool.  
You ask yourselves "What is that?"  
Well, I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat._

"_A talking hat?" you stand and stare  
But I ask you all to be aware  
That I'm much more than you see.  
First-years I can peer into your mind  
And house you with others of your kind  
Hogwarts School has houses four  
Hufflepuff and Slytherin  
And Ravenclaw and Gryffindor._

_Gryffindor might be the house for you  
For brave hearts who seek adventure_

_Slytherin is the house for those of the cunning mind  
If you be one, you'll be among your kind_

_Ravenclaw is the house for those clever sorts  
who wit and knowledge treasure._

_Hufflepuffs are not afraid of toil  
Hufflepuffs are brave and loyal._

_So put aside your thoughts of dread  
Place me atop your head  
I will look and see  
And place you where you ought to be  
Because I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
Thus ends this song and that is that._

The older students smiled and applauded when the hat stopped singing, as did several of what must be members of the faculty seated at the High Table in the front of the hall.

"Violet says that the Sorting Hat's songs are different every year," Dahlia whispered into Daria's ear. (3)

Professor McGonagall turned around to face the students she'd led into the hall. "As I call your names, you will step forward, and sit on the stool to be Sorted," she said.

"Abreux, Cynthia," called Professor McGonagall, reading the first name from the roll of parchment in her hand.

A nervous-looking fair-haired girl picked up the Sorting Hat and put it on her head.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the Sorting Hat.

"Allstone, Corwin," called Professor McGonagall.

The hat waited several seconds, then called "RAVENCLAW!"

"Banks, Dahlia," called Professor McGonagall.

Daria's new friend from the compartment stepped forward, put the hat on her head, and sat on the stool.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the Hat.

"Barksdale, Callista," called Professor McGonagall. Daria's eyes widened in surprise. She'd already heard that there was at least one line of Barksdale witches, but she didn't know if she see any while she was at Hogwarts. She wondered what her long-lost cousins looked like.

Daria would not have recognized Callista as a Barksdale. She was darker-haired, her face was squarer, and her neck was shorter than her Mother's or her aunts'. The Barksdale girl walked up to the sorting stool, looked at the other unsorted First Years with disdain, then put on the hat. She'd been better prepared than Daria; she'd pinned up her hair at the start of the day and the hat didn't sink over her head.

"SLYTHERIN!" shouted the hat.

This Callista looked absolutely jubilant. The girl took off the hat, slid off the stool, placed the hat back on it, and only the slower pace of the Slytherin prefect who escorted her kept her from skipping over to the Slytherin table

"Barksdale, Livia," called Professor McGonagall.

_Wow, there were TWO Barksdales in this year's class_, she thought. This second one looked a lot more like someone from her family. This Livia Barksdale physically reminded her of her younger sister Quinn, but this girl had a scowl that Quinn lacked.

Livia put on the Sorting Hat, which shouted "Slytherin!" almost immediately. She smiled triumphantly and followed a Slytherin prefect to the Slytherin table.

By the time Professor McGonagall got to the surnames that began with "C," Daria had learned the Sorting's pattern. Professor McGonagall would call a student, the student would pick up the hat and sit on the stool, and the hat would call out what house they were sorted into. She watched as some of the first-years were sorted into Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, occasionally into Gryffindor, less frequently into Slytherin. Daria was increasingly confident that the hat was going to Sort her somewhere. She didn't care about being popular, and she was pretty sure that the magic hat operated on adults' rules, not what kids wanted.

"Chang, Cho," Professor McGonagall called out. Daria wondered if Cho Chang was from that London Chinatown she and her Dad had found a couple of days ago.

"Ravenclaw!" shouted the Sorting Hat.

Daria would have liked to have some time to zone out and admire the Great Hall, but Cuthbert Fink Nottle hadn't been Sorted yet. She hoped that she and he didn't get into the same House. A little Fink Nottle went a long way; she thought she could put up with Cuthbert during the school day, but she did NOT want to share dormitory space with him. She tried to admire her surroundings but tried to listen to the Sortings with half an ear.

"Edgecombe, Marietta," called Professor McGonagall.

"Ravenclaw!" shouted the Sorting Hat.

"Fink-Nottle, Cuthbert," called Professor McGonagall. Cuthbert nervously stepped out of line of unsorted First-Years and started towards the Sorting Stool. She gave him a pat on the back as he walked by. Cuthbert turned his head and nodded Thanks. Cuthbert nervously sat on the Sorting Stool. Daria nervously waited too. Cuthbert was hard-core when it came to fish, but she really hoped that he went into some other house.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the Sorting Hat. Daria sighed with relief, put on a smile, and started applauding with the Hufflepuffs.

Daria decided that since her name was in the middle of the alphabet, she could now allow herself to be distracted by her surroundings. She'd relaxed a little by this point. She'd seen some of the other kids sorted and they didn't seem to be worse off than before the hat went on their heads.

The Great Hall was magnificent. It was long and Gothic and had stained-glass windows like a Medieval church. Green and black banners flew from the great hall's sides. Statues of men and women, presumably famous witches and wizards, stood on pedestals on many of the columns that held up the roof and walls of the Great Hall.

Her gave moved away from the ceiling to the floor beneath it. The four long tables stretched length-wise down the Great Hall. She noted that Hogwarts had boys and girls mixed together instead of being separated by sex. Nor were they separated by age: Daria saw kids who looked her age mixed in with older kids who looked almost adult.

She decided that she'd better check in and see just how far down the list of First-years Professor McGonagall had gotten.

"Lane, Forrest," read Professor McGonagall. _"They'd reached the L's already?"_ she thought. She'd better get ready; it would be her turn to put on the hat and sit down on the stool shortly.

"Leeward, Megan," read Professor McGonagall.

The hat hesitated for no more than a moment before crying "HUFFLEPUFF!"

_Good for Megan_, thought Daria. She was glad to see Megan get into a house, although she suspected that she and Megan wouldn't be in the same one. She wondered how Megan would handle Cuthbert.

"Lenoir, Drusilla," read Professor McGonagall.

Daria recognized her as one of the smirking girls in the "Purebloods Only" boat.

"SLYTHERIN!" shouted the Sorting Hat.

"_And welcome to it,"_ thought Daria, watching the girl happily follow a Slytherin prefect.

_Not so many kids left to be sorted_, thought Daria. _They'll probably call me next_.

This year's "L's" ended abruptly with "Lyons, Roderick," who got sorted into Gryffindor.

Daria expected that she'd soon be called and Sorted. She'd forgotten about the Celtic influence; many of the other kids had names that started with "Mac" or "Mc." Daria watched as they got sorted into one house or another. The last "mc" was followed by Meadowes, Wilson.

"Mitchell, William," read Professor McGonagall.

A tow-headed boy stepped away from the nervous line of unsorted First Years and strode up to the stool. He picked up the hat, smiled and waved at somebody at one of the tables, sat down on the stool and put on the hat. The hat waited only a moment before shouting "GRYFFINDOR!"

"I'm up next," thought Daria. "I'd better get ready." She shifted her feet and was a little surprised when the green-clad professor called "Morgan, Llewella" to be Sorted.

Morgan had just been led away from the Sorting Stool towards the Hufflepuff table when Professor McGonagall called "Morgendorffer, Daria."

_Showtime_, thought Daria.

Daria walked forward to the front of the hall and the stool with the Sorting Hat. She could see the dozens and dozens of students and dozens of pairs of eyes looking at her. For some reason she didn't know, she found herself remembering her disastrous dance recital back in Highland and began to feel the first faint tinges of panic. "Easy," she told herself, "Mrs. Crush isn't here, you don't have to do ballet steps here, you just have to put on the hat, sit down, let it speak, then take it off." (4)

To her annoyance, her palms were a little sweaty when she reached the stool. She carefully picked up the Sorting Hat then placed it over her head. The hat was several sizes too big for her and the brim dropped to her cheekbones. She heard a brief titter from the hall. She hadn't been the first kid this had happened to this evening, so it didn't bother her that much. _Just ignore them and breathe,_ she told herself. She carefully felt around for the seat of the stool and sat down. The hat smelled old and smelly with the scent of ancient hair oil, dried mold, aged fabric and something she told herself was the scent of magic but she suspected probably wasn't.

She gave a brief start when she heard a voice inside her head.

"_Well, well, well,"_ said the hat. _"What do we have here?"_

"_The Barksdale tree sends shoots in many different directions. You're the first shoot from your branch that's been seen hereabouts for a long, long time. Now let's take a look at you."_

"_You are extremely intelligent, oh my yes. You have a keen wit and a thirst for knowledge. You are not afraid of hard work. You don't suffer fools gladly. You have a talent for deception, and you can be ruthless when you feel you have to be. You are definitely your mother's daughter. In other days you'd do well in Slytherin."_

"_Yet I see your father in you as well. You have hidden wells of bravery. You also have the courage of your convictions and you would fight for your friends and family. So where to put you?"_ said the Hat.

The hat paused. Daria wondered if it was making up its mind. _"Not very sociable, are you?"_ asked the hat.

"No," said Daria.

"_Do you know what a Pure Blood is?"_ asked the Hat.

THAT question didn't follow. Daria wondered what that was all about. She knew that SHE wasn't a pure-blood.

She answered the hat anyway. "Yes," said Daria. "It's someone who is a descendant of wizarding stock for at least five generations."

She thought of her Dad and Grandma Ruth. She was certain they weren't. She was also pretty sure that her Mom's family hadn't produced any witches lately regardless of what her Mom occasionally said about Aunt Rita and Great-Aunt Sally, although for some reason she couldn't guess, she suspected that there might have been Barksdale witches much further back. After all, she'd seen two more recent examples sorted a short time earlier. If there were, though, the talent had been lost for generations in her mother's part of the family. How long? A century? Two centuries? Longer? She didn't know. She'd learned about some Pure Blood attitudes on the train and on the beach. Did she want to spend the next seven years living next to such snobby jerks? Unh-unh. No way.

Daria didn't like snobs. She'd already been put down by a couple of her eastern cousins for being a hick from Texas and she didn't like it. She didn't like being called "common" by some of the other girls or the whispered "mudblood" she'd overheard on the train. She didn't know what that word meant, but she could guess that it was an insult.

Being alone scared her. She knew she wasn't that social, but she'd like to have _some_ friends. She'd become the odd girl out at James Ferguson Elementary School as her friends had gone on to Highland Middle School, drifted in different directions, and occasionally moved away. She hated it but endured it because she had no choice. An image of her dad looking miserable in a military school's cadet uniform briefly flittered into her consciousness but was interrupted by the hat.

"_I see,"_ said the Hat. _"I'll put you where you belong, then."_

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat.

The Hat's cry was startling, yet relieving at the same time. She'd been Sorted; her part in the Sorting Ceremony was about over. She was going to be a Ravenclaw. All she had to do now was let one of the other students lead her away to one of the four long tables and everybody else's attention would be on somebody else. For some reason Daria didn't know, she found herself smiling. She supposed she looked a little silly smiling under a hat brim that fell below the tip of her nose. "_Get used to it, pardner_," she thought.

Still feeling a little dazed, Daria took off the hat and slid off the stool. She looked at the throng of students seated at the four long tables, and curtseyed. The Ravenclaw table burst into applause and a few titters at Daria's gesture. Daria then gently placed the hat back on the stool. Her grandmother had had words with her to be careful with old things when she and her family had visited her house in Virginia a couple of years before. Grandma had said that they were precious and historical and that she should respect them for what they were.

A grinning Ravenclaw prefect led Daria to an empty place at the Ravenclaw table, while Mulliner, Audrey and Nash, Hespera were called and Sorted (5). Daria gingerly stepped over the bench and sat down. "Welcome to Hogwarts and Ravenclaw," said an older boy seated next to her. There were smiles, some quick "Hallo's". some handshakes, a couple of pats on the back, quick squeeze on the shoulder or two, but most of her new tablemates' attention was focused on the Sorting Ceremony. (6).

A short time later a Ravenclaw prefect seated Majda Paderewsky several places further down from Daria. Obviously, she, too, was Sorted into Ravenclaw. And that, Daria realized, was everybody from her compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Three people in her compartment had been sorted into Ravenclaw, and one into Hufflepuff.

Someone tapped the side of a goblet with a spoon, the sound amplified with magic. Professor Dumbledore stood up and walked over to the lectern. She might have been tempted to giggle at Professor Dumbledore's get-up back in Highland, but any urge to giggle had been knocked cold after the Headmaster's confrontation with Peeves.

"Welcome again to another year at Hogwarts School and welcome to our new first-years. But before we begin our banquet, let me say a few words: for those from wizarding families, we look forward to seeing you follow in your parents' footsteps. For those from non-Wizarding families, we look forward wo watching you discover a whole new world

"Let the Feast begin!" he said.

One moment the serving plates were empty; the next moment they were all covered in food.

People grew talkative at dinner. As the only Texan at her table, Daria had to field a lot of questions. Yes, she was an American. She did grow up in Texas, that's why she talked that way. She had attended Muggle schools before she came to Hogwarts. No, she hadn't driven an automobile; she was only eleven. Yes, she had ridden horses, but no, she wasn't a cowgirl. Most people she knew talked much like she did. No, she didn't own a gun, although she did fire one a few times. No, she hadn't always known that she was a witch. She grew up thinking she was a Muggle even though there was weird stuff happening around her and was surprised when someone from MACUSA's DMLE informed her that she was a witch. She didn't know, but she suspected that an owl had delivered her Hogwarts acceptance letter to Highland.

A couple of the older Ravenclaws asked her why she was at Hogwarts instead of at Ilvermorny or the Instituto in Campeche. Daria replied that she chose Hogwarts because she couldn't speak Spanish, which excluded the Instituto for her, and that she'd gotten a special grant to attend Hogwarts which covered tuition, meals, and boarding. The older students seemed to accept her explanation.

She'd learned from Martha that Hogwarts girls were roomed together by age. She decided to introduce herself to her prospective roommates. She nodded at Dahlia and Majda. She introduced herself to Cho Chang, who wasn't a Londoner but a Scot (6). She recognized Marietta Edgecombe as the girl from Madam Malkin's, Marietta was seated on the other side of Cho and didn't speak to her.

As the last dessert vanished from the plates and the serving dishes, Professor Dumbledore stood up. Professor McGonagall tapped the side of her goblet with a spoon and the hall fell silent.

"A few short words before we retire for the night," said Professor Dumbledore.

"First years should know that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds. Older students should also remember that, too," he added, looking at someone over at the Gryffindor table.

"Second, Quidditch trials are to be held the second week of Term. Anyone interested in playing on House teams should speak to Madam Hooch."

"And now, before we go off to bed, let us sing the school song!"

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts  
Teach us something please.  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot."

Daria had a reflexive dislike for official songs, but she grudgingly admitted that this one wasn't half-bad. The effect was like the Austin Lounge Lizards' "Anahuac," which she'd heard several times back in Highland, helped along by the Weasley twins' singing it like an off-key funeral march.

Professor Dumbledore smiled benignly at the assembled students.

"A performance to remember!" he said. "Now off to bed! Prefects, take charge of your new first years!"

Footnotes

1 As was mentioned in Daria Ravenclaw: The Highland Years. The Three Stooges' bullying campaign didn't last very long, but it was traumatic.

2 Harry Potter's first encounter with ghosts in _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ includes dialog where the ghosts were arguing about what to do about Peeves, Hogwarts Castle's resident poltergeist. The dialog made me wonder just what Peeves had been up to before Harry Potter arrived on September 1st of the following year. I decided that terrorizing newly-arrived first-years might be one of Peeves' stunts.

3 I'd fretted about writing a different Sorting Hat song since I wrote the first drafts of this particular passage a couple of years ago. I'm still not happy with the results, but it'll have to do.

4\. Mrs. Crush was a horrible ballet teacher whose arrogance caused Daria to injure herself back in Highland.

(5) I realize that I might have pilfered the Banks surname from Mary Poppins.

I definitely pilfered the Mulliner surname from PG Wodehouse, and despite the fact that the Mulliners mentioned in various Wodehouse stories are almost all either deceased or well off-stage, I decided that some of the Mulliner clan's descendants still practice their forebears' behavior.

(6) Katie Leung, the actress who played Cho Chang in the Harry Potter movies, was raised in Scotland and has a Scottish accent. I chose to make her a Scot of Asian heritage.


	25. Her First Letters Home

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter 25: Her First Letters Home

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I don't own either franchise, and I neither expect nor deserve any sort of financial recompense for this work of fiction. 

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl 

There, done.

Daria folded up the letter and put it in an envelope, then addressed it. Hopefully Dad and Mom would get it within a week. She'd already written another letter for the Crazy Twins. She told them a little about Hogwarts, mentioned that she'd run into Cuthbert, and asked them how they liked the Instituto and Campeche. She then wrote postcards for Quinn, Ronnie, and Mrs. Ocampo.

When Daria started writing letters, she'd worried that she'd be forced to use Owl Post, even when sending letters across the Atlantic. She'd learned that that wasn't the case: true, letters going out of Hogwarts had to be send out using owls, but Daria had learned through word of mouth that the enterprising mother of a Hufflepuff student had created an unofficial hybrid letter-forwarding system: students sent her letters and packages by owl, then she turned around and sent them onwards by post or other shipping systems. True, her service was a little pricey, but on the other hand, anything forwarded through her service had a better chance of getting to East or South Asia or across the Atlantic than by using owl-mail all the way.

She looked at the postcards and shook her head ruefully. She should have stocked up on postcards back when she was in London, darn it! She thought she'd be SOL as far as getting Scottish postcards, but then discovered that Fred and George Weasley had not only set up a black market network selling wizarding goodies to students who'd grown up in magical families, but also sundries like postcard, toothpaste, and other goodies. Daria selected a couple of motionless Muggle-style post-cards, ignoring the Twins' blandishments for one of the wizarding ones: she did not want to freak out the US Postal Service.

-(((O-O)))—

A Message from the Author:

HELP!

As most of you all have deduced, Daria (Black) Morgendorffer entered Hogwarts the school year before Harry Potter did, which is why there is no trace of Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, or Ron Weasley on campus. A couple of the secondary characters mentioned later in canon _Harry Potter_ like Charlie Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks are still students, howbeit much older than the eleven-year-old girl from Texas. There's also a different Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and that is what caused me to bellow for help.

Another fanfiction writer, a writer who had also set her protagonist in Hogwarts during the 1990-1991 school year, had inserted a Scottish wizard into the DADA post. Unlike other Scots on campus, the Highlander Wizard had a far thicker Scottish accent and his speech was loaded with Scottish dialect.

If anyone recognizes who this author is and can send me her FF profile, please, please, please send it to me (I believe her last update was within the last six months). I very much want to acknowledge her idea and hopefully use the character.

Thank you.

-Meester Lee


	26. Settling In One

Daria Owlyear Settling In One

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise, and neither expect nor deserve any sort of financial compensation for this work of fiction.

Rated "T" for foul language

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravencl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl aw: The Year of the Owl

The dinner ended, and the students began to stand up.

"Ravenclaws, follow us!" said a couple of older students. Daria guessed that they were in their late teens.

"Who are they?" Daria asked Violet.

"They're house prefects," said Violet. "Ravenclaws."

"Oh," said Daria. Other students began to follow them, a mixture of first-years and students who'd been attending Hogwarts before she got here. Since she had no idea as to what was where at Hogwarts, she followed the crowd of Ravenclaws to her new House and dorm room.

They weren't alone. Another crowd of students was also following their prefects out of the Great Hall. Daria was still very new at Hogwarts, but she could recognize Gryffindor colors. Was the Gryffindor Tower this way too?

The Gryffindors peeled off at carved stone landing. "This way, this way," said the Gryffindor prefects.

"Ravenclaws this way," said a boy with a Scottish accent. Daria fell in with the crowd of Ravenclaws heading towards her new House and dorm room. The boy wore a blue necktie under his robe: Daria decided that he'd lead them to Ravenclaw Tower.

They climbed up ten flights of stairs, coming to what must be the castle's fifth floor. They didn't stop there: instead they found themselves at the base of a circular staircase. Daria looked up and a long, circular staircase. _Eeep_, she thought.

There was nothing for it except to start climbing stairs. Eventually, sshe and the other students reached the top. There was a middling-sized landing with a few portraits, as well as a thick wooden door with a bronze eagle that seemed to be a door-knocker, but no door handle or peephole.

"We wish to enter," said the female prefect, much as if she was playing a game with someone.

"Not without answering my riddles," replied the door-knocker.

_A door-knocker with a brain-twister on it_, thought Daria. _This is going to be a pain_. She knew that she was smart, but she wasn't smart all the time.

"Give us the riddle," said the female prefect.

"What forms a cord while it is created, is cut at birth, then is cut again when it dies?" asked the door-knocker.

"A life," said Majda. The other first-years looked surprised. So did some of the upper-years.

"Good answer," said Daria sotto-voce.

The door swung open. "Enter," said the doorknocker.

Daria's jaw dropped open as she walked through the door and got a glimpse of her new living quarters. The Ravenclaw common room was incredible. It was light and airy, with arched windows, and with not just one floor, but a second floor shaped like a balcony. Except for a large marble statue of some famous witch and a few paintings, most of the walls were covered in bookshelves. Desks and reading lamps covered most of the floor space, although there were a couple of leather chairs and small couches. It looked like what Daria hoped a library would look like in Heaven.

"Oh, wow," she said, a smile on her face. "This is what a dorm _ought_ to be."

The teenaged girl who'd led the procession of Ravenclaws from the Great Hall to the Ravenclaw Common Room turned around. "Hallo, I'm Simone Willoughby, and I'm one of the prefects here at Ravenclaw House," she said.

"I'm Andrew Brae," said the teenaged boy wearing the blue Prefect badge. "I'm the other one."

"We know you're all rather tired from your journey and the feast, so we'll send you off straight to bed. Get a good night's sleep. There will be a house meeting in the common room at 9:00 AM."

"I'm going to show you girl fledglings to your rooms. First years: two floors down, left staircase: to the right, first bedroom: Dahlia Banks, Marietta Edgecombe, Cynthia Farmer, Daria Morgendorffer, and Anahita Waring. Upstairs to the right, second bedroom: Abby Armitage, Cho Chang, Majda Paderewsky, Tabitha Rolle, and Elizabeth Wolfe."

"I'll do the same for the boys," said Andrew.

"Off we go!" said Simone. She led and Daria and the other first-year girls followed. They descended tow floors, then turned to the right. There was a sign over a door: First Year Girls' Dormitory.

The dorm room was nice: it was pleasantly light and airy. It made her think of some of the medieval stories she used to watch with her friends back in Highland: it had five curtained poster beds, each with a small dresser and night-table. It was nicely portioned: it was as large as her parents' master bedroom back in Highland, except that with four other girls it was going to be more crowded. Still, she'd be able to tough it out; it was a lot like sharing that small bedroom in Highland with Quinn.

She looked around the room and was relieved to see that her suitcase was next to her bed. She picked it up and put it on top of her covers. She was tired: this had been one hell of a day. Even so, she still had enough juice to wash up, so she dug up her toiletries and her night clothes—in her case pajamas. She silently thanked Martha Haddaway for talking her Dad into buying the expandable suitcase.

She walked to the bathroom: there were two of them, both communal. That didn't bother her that much. It was just a little like sharing a bathroom with Quinn and Veronica at home, except that there were more sinks, toilets, and showers. She returned to her dorm bedroom, cleared her bed, then slipped under the covers. She was asleep in minutes.

The next morning, Daria was awakened by the stirrings of the other four girls in her room. She wasn't entirely sure this wasn't a dream; she half-expected to wake up in the bedroom she used to share with Quinn back in Highland and realize that everything that had happened during the last couple of years was just a dream. But no, this was real. She was in a cramped but comfortable bedroom with four Brits in a tower that looked like something out of a fairy tale.

"Oh, my!" said Cynthia Farmer. "Look what they've done to our uniforms!" That brought Daria to full wakeful alert. She'd put up with enough bullying back in Highland that her subconscious always feared the worst.

She put on her eyeglasses and looked at the chair next to her bed where she'd set her under-uniform the night before. Her uniform had undergone some modifications: her black Hogwarts tie had been replaced by a blue tie with silver stripes and that her school jacket, vest, and skirt now had blue and silver trim. She sighed in relief; there was nothing wrong, save for the fact that her uniform now looked like those of her older dorm-mates.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"8:15," said Dahlia. "We'd better get going. There's that house meeting at Nine."

_Eeep_, thought Daria. That was a tactful way of saying that she'd better get up and get dressed. She hurriedly splashed water on her face, blushed her teeth, dressed and scurried up the stairs leading to the Ravenclaw common room.

Most of the rest of Ravenclaw House was already there when she finishing climbing up the stairs and stepping into the common room. A little man was standing behind a short podium. He looked extremely short, so short that he was only able to peer over the top of the podium by standing on top of a couple of thick, leather-bound books.

"How do you do," said the little guy. "My name is Filius Flitwick and I am head of Ravenclaw House as well as your charms professor."

Daria looked at her new Head of House with interest. There was something about Professor Flitwick's features that reminded her more than a little of the goblins she'd seen at Gringott's Bank and elsewhere in Diagon Alley. Was he part-Goblin? She resolved to sound out her older housemates for more information on Professor Flitwick.

"I'd like to welcome you all to another year at Ravenclaw House, both returning students as well as our new fledglings. _He means us firsties_, thought Daria. "Our house has a well-deserved reputation for scholarship, knowledge of magic and the mystic arts, wit, and for academic achievement. During this coming year, I look forward to watching you learn the ways of magic as well as seeing you work hard. Many of you come from families that have been magical for generations. Others have come from families where magic has awakened more recently. And some of you are come to this world from non-magical backgrounds. I place no pre-set expectations of magical ability based on heritage, but I do hope to see each of you learn to tap the magical abilities you were born with and then learn how to wield it.

"Our house's symbol is that of the eagle, a bird that soars far above where others struggle to climb, and sees in all directions. I believe that you all have the innate ability to soar like other members of this house in the coming months.

"Some of us will have some difficulty at first in learning to fly. Older students, I expect you to help our fledglings to take flight." Daria heard a brief titter of laughter. "I would like you to introduce yourselves to our fledglings and get to know them."

"I will also be scheduling meetings with each of our new students this coming fortnight. Are there any questions?" the professor finished.

A hand went up from a young male student who looked to be about Daria's age. Daria noted the hair-styling and that the boy wore a uniform that reeked of money and custom-tailoring.

"Yes," said Professor Flitwick. "Mister _?"

"Sanderson, Ammon Sanderson," the boy replied arrogantly. "I've got a question."

"Well, go on, then," Professor Flitwick replied jovially.

"What sort of school would put a little half-breed like you in charge of a class, let alone a whole house?" said Sanderson.

There was a gasp of shock and outrage from the students in the Common Room.

"Stow it, you little pure-blood wanker!" shouted a girl with a loud Cockney voice. Her hair had broad blue and silver stripes and her face was made up in Goth style. She was several years older than Daria.

Professor Fitwick raised his hand and the Ravenclaws in the Commons fell silent. _Great crowd control_, Daria noted.

"I am here because I achieved my status through hard work and my magical abilities, not through family connections," Professor Flitwick replied coldly, "and because I am a superior Charms Master."

He looked Sanderson coldly in the eye in what Daria later learned was the gaze of an experienced duelist. "What skills do you possess?" he finished.

"That's two points, Sanderson," said Andrew. He glanced at his head of house. The boy who'd insulted Professor Flitwick smiled. "Five points, I mean," he corrected herself. "And detention."

The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped by five degrees.

Daria raised her hand.

"Yes," said Professor Flitwick. "Miss _?"

"Morgendorffer, Daria Morgendorffer," said Daria.

"That's "Morgendorffer, _Sir_," said Simone.

"My apologies, Sir," said Daria. "I'm new at this."

"My question is that I've already practiced a few spells back home. Should I be concentrating more on theory at this point or application?"

"How much magical theory have you studied, Miss Morgendorffer?" said Professor Flitwick.

"Very little," Daria replied.

"I would study magical theory," said Professor Flitwick. "That you're already to perform some charms with your wand is commendable, but you need to know the theory behind the charms you'll be performing."

"But don't neglect your wand work. You may have learned some on your own but your techniques may need refinement, and what you do know you can teach to your peers." Professor Flitwick smiled benignly at Daria.

"Yes, sir," said Daria. "Thank you."

The ice now broken, other Ravenclaws raised their hands and asked questions. The topics were as varied as the topic of study groups, tutoring sessions for Ravenclaw students having difficulty with certain subjects, questions about lunch hours and Quidditch team try-outs.

The meeting broke up over an hour later.

"Daria," said Violet.

"Yes?" said Daria.

"I'm going to show Dahlia around the castle so she can learn what is where and what is what," said Violet. "Care to tag along?"

Daria remembered her confusion from the night before and her glimpse of the multiple sets of staircases past the Great Hall. Violet had claimed that some of them moved around.

_You'd better_, she told herself. "Sure," she said.

-(((O-O)))—

Despite her rumbling stomach, Daria was later grateful that she took up Violet's offer. Even that was only a start; she soon learned that she had so much more to learn about navigating her way around the school. While the stair to Ravenclaw Tower and the route from the front entrance to the Great Hall were relatively simple and straightforward, much of Hogwarts was like an evil mash-up between the works of Giovanni Piranesi and MC Escher translated into three dimensions, then animated by a computer gamer. Hogwarts had over 140 staircases, many of which not only moved, but were also equipped with vanishing stairs and other booby traps. Hogwarts also had doors that weren't really doors, and doors that had to be handled differently to open. Daria soon learned that the portraits she'd hoped to use as landmarks were untrustworthy: the people in them often moved around like Max Headroom jumping from computer network to computer network.

She'd been warned about Argus Filch, the Castle's caretaker and Mrs. Norris, his evil-tempered female tattle-cat: thus far she'd barely stayed within school rules and he'd only given her one or two warnings. She was more worried about Peeves—she suspected that she and the Poltergeist were going to have a run-in.

She finally had one in one of the worst places possible—down below ground where she soon found that she was not on her way to the entrance to Hufflepuff like she'd hoped, but was instead in the dungeons near the entrance to Slytherin House.

_OK,_ she told herself. _You're in a jam. Take a few breaths, calm yourself, and THINK, Morgendorffer._

She then heard the already-familiar sound of the Poltergeist's laughter.

"Hello, Ickle Firstie, lost your way?" said Peeves. "Let Peevsie show you the way back to the bird cage!"

_Yeah, right_, thought Daria. _Like I really trust_ you.

"But first Peevsie wants some fun with Little Missy Daria!" shouted Peeves. He apparated from in front of and above to behind Daria, first knocking the spiral notebook and ballpoint pen she had with her out of her arm, then tugging at her skirt.

_You four-flushing bastard,_ thought Daria. She drew her wand from her jacket pocket. She grinned savagely. **This** _time I can get a bead on you_, she thought, finding that she was successfully tracking the Poltergeist.

Then Peeves changed the game. He disapparated, leaving Daria alone just long enough to decide that things had calmed down enough for her to gather her pen and notebook, then reappeared above her and poured a jug of ice water directly on her head.

"You little shit!" she shouted.

She did not expect what happened next. Peeves disapparated, then reapparated again, then yanked her eyeglasses off her head.

"Peevsie's got Miss Daria's spare eyeballs!" he cackled with glee. "Miss Daria can't see Peevsie or find her way back to her bed of twigs and feathers!" Peeves thought that his last comment was so hilarious that he started laughing again. Daria tried to track him by his voice and failed.

He'd learned a little from sparring with Daria. He didn't stay in one place but kept moving. He popped in and out of existence once or twice to make it even harder for her.

"PEEVES!" said an unfamiliar voice. Daria wondered who that was. She hoped it wasn't Professor Snape, although it sounded like a ghost.

"Leave the girl alone!" said the light-colored blur. _Definitely a ghost_, thought Daria. _Which one?_

"And drop that!" the voice added. Daria heard the sound of her eyeglasses hitting the dungeon floor, then the sound of Peeves popping away.

She went down on her hands and knees in the direction of where Peeves had dropped her eyeglasses feeling for them with her hands. It took a bit of searching, but she found them and put them on.

She was again able to see clearly. She turned towards her rescuer to thank him, and saw to her surprise that it was the Bloody Baron, the leading house ghost of Slytherin.

Daria didn't have her mother's attitude towards ghosts. Her Mom might be a terror, but Daria found one or two of the ghosts near Hogwarts frightening. The Bloody Baron was definitely in that category.

"Thank you, Milord," she said, hoping that she'd used the right form of address.

The Baron nodded to her, surprisingly giving her a small smile.

Daria nodded back, then began to turn away.

"Stay, child," said the Baron.


	27. Collect One Level of Ancestry

_Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl._ Chapter 27: Collect One Level Of Ancestry

DISCLAIMER: _Daria_ is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise. This work of fiction is written for my amusement, not for financial gain.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Daria didn't have her mother's attitude towards ghosts. Her Mom might ignore them or occasionally yell at them, but Daria found one or two of the ghosts near Hogwarts frightening. The Bloody Baron was definitely in that category.

"Thank you, Milord," she said, hoping that she'd used the right form of address.

The Baron nodded to her, surprisingly giving her a small smile.

Daria nodded back, then began to turn away.

"Stay, child," said the Baron. Despite her desire to turn and start running. Daria stayed put.

The Baron drifted around her, studying her to see if there was something that only he could see. Then he finally spoke, "It has been so long," he said. "I thought they were all dead. And now you appear."

"Beg your pardon, Sir?" said Daria.

"Those of my bloodline," said the Bloody Baron. "I thought that they were all dead. Yet here you stand."

_Whoa_, she thought to herself. _This guy was one of her ancestors_. What could she tell about him? She wasn't the fashion maven that Quinn was already becoming, but she could tell that the Bloody Baron was dressed like a nobleman from the late Dark Ages.

She told herself that she was going to have to ask other students and her teachers just who the Baron was in his lifetime.

"It is a terrible thing to learn that the last of your kindred has died off," said the Baron.

"Tell me about yourself."

"I'm," Daria began. "I'm new at this, I'm the daughter of Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer and Jacob Morgendorffer," she continued. "I grew up in Highland, Texas and I only learned that I'm a witch about nine months ago. I used to dance in a ballet class, I read a lot, and I'm a so-so shot with a bow and arrow. I know a little bit about ranching, I started taking potions lessons before I came here and I was going to go to college and become a writer before I learned that I'm a witch."

"Do you sew or weave?" asked the Baron.

"No, Sir," said Daria. "My parents and my sisters buy already-made clothing at stores and hire the services of tailors and seamstresses when necessary. I can do a little drawing, but I don't think I'll be a great artist."

"Do you embroider?" asked the Baron.

"No, Sir," said Daria.

The Baron stopped to consider this. _This guy is _definitely _old-school_, Daria decided. "Tell me about your family, child," said the Baron.

"Well, most of my mother's family has been on the other side of the Atlantic since the mid-1750's," said Daria. "They might have been wizards or witches a long time ago, but that died out a couple of centuries ago. Since then, they were farmers, landowners, occasionally soldiers, and more recently government officials for the Mundie government."

"My mother is a lawyer, and my father is a wholesale supply distributor," she continued.

"Muggle?" he said, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, my mother and I think my grandmother are what Americans call Wild Squibs, but neither are witches. I don't know about my Aunt Amy and I'm not ready to ask her until later."

"What is a Wild Squib?" asked the Baron.

"A Wild Squib is someone who can see and sense magical creatures, much like a Squib born to wizarding families, but like other Squibs, Wild Squibs can't work magical spells."

"I see," the Bloody Baron replied.

"Tell me, child, do you have any brothers of sisters?" the Bloody Baron asked hopefully.

"I have two sisters, Quinn and Veronica," said Daria. "I also have a first cousin named Erin and some cousins on my Dad's side of the family."

The Baron smiled again, looking almost mellow. Much later, Daria learned that she had seen a truly rare sight. The Baron was _never_ mellow.

"So you think that you and your sisters and this Erin will have children," said the Baron.

"Probably," said Daria, "except that Erin is still in her teens, I'm only eleven, and my sister Quinn is only nine. Ronnie's even younger."

Screwing up her nerve, Daria said "Can I ask you a question, Sir?"

"You can ask, but I may not choose to answer," said the Baron.

_I'd better ask him while he's still in a good mood_, Daria decided.

"I remember traveling to a town near a battlefield called Gettysburg a couple of years ago," said Daria. "While I was there I got swarmed by several ghosts who were trying to talk to General Barksdale, one of my ancestors. They wouldn't leave me alone and they only backed off when my Mother started yelling at them. Can you all sense bloodlines? Because it sure looks that way."

The Baron almost grinned. "This General Barksdale, was he still alive at the time?"

"No, sir," said Daria. "He died about the same time those soldiers did, about 185 years ago: Minnie balls and a canon ball."

"You are indeed a clever little daughter of the House of the Eagle," said the Bloody Baron. "Yes, we can."

Daria heard voices and footsteps coming down the hallway. Three girls walked around the corner and stopped short when they saw Daria talking to the Bloody Baron.

"Greetings, Baron," said one of the girls, a brunette with pale skin and what Daria thought was a posh English accent. Daria thought that she wore a Slytherin uniform.

"Greetings, Miss Pichon," said the Baron. "This is Miss Morgendorffer from Texas. She is a first-year Ravenclaw and I consider her to be under my protection. Could you guide her to where she wants to go?"

"Certainly, Sir," said Miss Pichon, who appeared to be in her mid-teens.

"Come along, Texas," she said, making a quirky smile. "Let's get you sorted out."

-(((O-O)))—

Author's Note: A few readers may think that I am implying that this version of Daria is the daughter of the Bloody Baron AND Helena Ravenclaw. I AM NOT. What I am implying is that the Bloody Baron, back before he courted Helena Ravenclaw and perhaps while he was doing so, had had sexual relations outside of marriage with other women. Back then, just as now, powerful men could seduce or cajole women of lower social status into having sexual relations with them, and that sometimes such events had issue (Think of Robert Baratheon in _A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones_). I am saying that in one case, at least, such relations DID produce a baby or two, and that while the Baron's descendants gradually died out in Europe over the centuries, he had descendants in North America.

One other thing: Daria's descent from the Bloody Baron came through her mother and maternal grandmother, not from the Black family.


	28. Settling In Two

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter Twenty Eight: Settling In Two

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter, its characters, and its setting are the creations of JK Rowling and are the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. No, I don't own them and acknowledge that fact. I am writing for my own amusement, not for profit.

This chapter rated "T" for coarse language.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl.

"So where were you trying to get to?" asked Miss Pichon. "I don't think you were trying to visit us."

"No," said Daria. "I don't know many people in your house. I was trying to make my way over to the entrance for Hufflepuff. I have several friends there."

"Well, you're a long way from where you want to go," said Miss Pichon. "These are the Dungeons. The entrance for Hufflepuff is over by the kitchens. We'll set you off in the right direction."

The girls started walking and Daria hoped they were going to play this straight. She'd already heard rumors that Hogwarts had bullying problems. But judging from their body language, Daria guessed that these girls seemed more amused than being in bullying frame of mind.

"Are you really from Texas?" asked another one of the Slytherin girls.

_Oh, great_, thought Daria.

"That I am," Daria replied. "Highland, Texas."

"I've never heard of it," said the second girl.

"You aren't missing all that much," Daria replied. "It's a small city of about 40,000 about 250 miles or so west of Dallas. There's not much there."

"Are there a lot of wizards and witches out there?" asked the second girl.

"I'm beginning to think that there might be, at least comparatively speaking," said Daria. "Highland's not a major city, though."

"Could you tell us your name again?" asked the third Slytherin girl, who'd been too awed by the Bloody Baron taking personal interest in anybody, let alone a Ravenclaw firstie.

"Daria Morgendorffer," Daria replied.

"Morgendorffer is too much of a mouthful," said the second Slytherin girl. "I think I'll call you Texas instead."

Daria grimaced. She suspected that "Texas" had now become her nickname around Hogwarts, like it or not. _Thank you, Red Baron_, she thought sardonically.

The Slytherin girls walked her up several staircases, down a couple of halls, down several other staircases, and dropped her off at the door to Hufflepuff, then went their own way. Daria waited for ten minutes until someone opened the door for her and had just enough time to follow Megan to her next class, which luckily was the same one she was taking.

Classes had started a couple of days before and she already knew her schedule. Unlike Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, Professor Flitwick didn't hand out each students' class schedules himself but delegated the job to his two prefects. Daria quickly surmised that unlike at James Ferguson Elementary School and unlike her erstwhile classmates now at Billy Sol Estes Middle School, she wasn't going to have a lot of free time. She'd have Ancient Runes, Charms, Transfiguration, Astronomy, History of Magic, Defense Against The Dark Arts, Potion Making, and Herbology.

Professor McGonagall wasn't there when she arrived and took a seat. Instead, a tabby cat with a fur pattern that looked like spectacles sat at the edge of the desk looking like it was going to spend the next period minding the students. Daria wondered if Professor McGonagall was late or had missed her class. That was odd because despite the fact that Daria barely knew who she was, Professor McGonagall struck her as the sort of woman who wouldn't flake out. Besides, her classmates were too quiet and too orderly

She pulled out her pocket-watch to see what time it was and had put just put it down on her desk when the tabby cat leaped off the edge of the desk and transformed itself into Professor McGonagall.

Daria's eyes bulged and she let out a "Whoa!" instead of keeping her thoughts inside her head.

"Good morning," said Professor McGonagall.

The Professor then took roll, noting where everyone was seated. She then read them the riot act: "Transfiguration is some of the most dangerous and complex magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will told to leave and not come back. You have been warned." She then began lecturing about theory and practice of transfiguration and warned students that it wouldn't be as simple as simply waving a wand and making something happen. Daria smiled when she said that. Ms. Bowen had said the same thing back in Highland, that witchcraft was called witchcraft because it wasn't easy-peasy: instead, you had to study and work at it. After Professor McGonagall finished writing points of her lesson on the blackboard, she issued each student some matches and taught them the wand motions and the workings of the charm that would turn them into needles. Daria managed to transfigure several of her matches, but they were larger than sewing needles and still retained their original wood grain. Still, they were metallic and pointy.

She and her fellow first-year Ravenclaws shared Transfiguration class with Hufflepuffs. She'd worried about Cuthbert's progress, but while Cuthbert had buddied with another first-year wizard, he'd had Megan Leeward sitting on the other side of his seat. Megan had helped him with wand movements and helping him visualize transforming his match into something thinner, pointier, and metallic.

Her next class was Herbology. That class had her a little worried. She'd never been much for gardening and the heat and aridity of the South Plains were death on the sorts of magical plants that witches and wizards favored in cooler, wetter climates. She actually like Professor Sprout. She was friendly and outgoing without being smarmy. Even better, she knew her stuff. Thus far Daria thought that she was on Professor Sprout's good side and planned to stay that way.

She was shocked when Professor Sprout looked at her after class, then said: "You, Morgendorffer! Come with me!" Daria followed the herbalist back to her office, wondering what she'd done.

"Sit down, Miss Morgendorffer," said Professor Sprout.

_I can't think of anything I've done_, thought Daria.

"I've heard that you knew Cuthbert Fink-Nottle before he came to Hogwarts," said Professor Sprout.

"Yes, Ma'am," said Daria. "I knew him back in Texas. He and I went to the same primary school for a couple of years."

"How long has he had that limp?" asked Professor Sprout.

"Since early November of 1989," Daria replied. "He hurt his knee a couple of days before he flew back to the UK from Texas. I remember him hobbling onto the plane at Midland the day he left for home."

"Are these sorts of injuries common in the Muggle world?" asked Professor Sprout.

"Those sorts of injuries happen quite often in American football," said Daria.

Professor Sprout shook her head in dismay at the state of Muggle medicine.

"Why didn't you contact a healer?" said Professor Sprout.

Daria knew what sort of Healer Professor Sprout was talking about: a magical healer, not a Muggle MD.

"I didn't know about the magical world or local resources at the time, so I didn't do anything," said Daria. Watching Cuthbert limp still hurt. "Honest to God, I didn't learn about the wizarding world until a couple of weeks later. And I didn't know for certain-sure that Cuthbert was a wizard until last week when I saw him in Diagon Alley."

Professor Sprout stared at her for what Daria thought was a long time. Despite the fact Daria wasn't usually expressive, the Professor could tell that she wasn't lying.

"I see," said Professor Sprout.

"Well, I'm going to send Mister Fink-Nottle to Madam Pomfrey to see if we can get him properly fixed up."

"You will?" Daria said hopefully. "Do you need me to do anything, Ma'am? Like I do know his parents. I can help you phone them if you want."

"No, but thanks for asking," said Professor Sprout. "And thank you for enlightening me about things."

"Now do you have a class after Herbology?"

"Yes, Ma'am," said Daria.

"Well, off with you, then," said Professor Sprout.

-(((O-O)))—

Daria's next class was Charms. She scrambled but she was still three minutes late. Professor Flitwick looked at her reproachfully.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Daria, and took a seat.

Today's class was about charms theory and the underlying laws and principles governing magical spells, not about actually performing charms. Daria bent to her desk and started writing, grumbling silently about using a quill instead of a ballpoint pen. Charms theory wasn't Newtonian physics, but it had its own set of rules, rules that any aspiring witch or wizards ignored to his or her own peril. To her relief, she realized that she'd learned a little theory working with the ghostly Herr Sackl before she'd left Highland. She was still unsure as to how all of this fit together in the grand magical scheme of things, but despite her usual cynicism, she realized that they just might fit together after all.

She sensed that her classmates were disappointed that they weren't yet doing wand-work. Daria discovered that this morning, at least she wasn't. She knew she could perform magic. She kept writing notes. As she wrote, she realized that some of the things that she'd heard from Herr Sackl earlier in the year now started to make sense, although she wasn't yet able to put it all together into some sort of framework.

-(((O-O)))—

By now, Daria was beginning to get the hang of Hogwarts Castle, enough so that she decided to do a little exploring of the grounds. She found a side entrance, opened the door and stepped outside. It was cool but not bothersome, although she was grateful for her woolen uniform. She thought of the Aldrete sisters wearing their light cotton Instituto uniforms and how they'd feel in the cool Highland air and smirked. She started walking and found herself on a path leading through a cluster of old megaliths that had probably been sacred well before the Romans had set foot in Britain. There was a nice view of the lake, as well as a view of someone's stone hut and a path leading off to some woods which Daria guessed was the Forbidden Forest.

The cabin made her smile, it seemed so unlike the rest of the school, almost rustic. There was a vegetable patch to one side and what looked like some animal pens off in the near distance. There was smoke coming from the chimney. Someone was home.

She was so engrossed in the view that she was startled when a male voice behind her said "Enjoying the view?" She turned around and saw a stocky red-headed boy grinning at her. She'd now been at Hogwarts long enough to read the uniforms: red and yellow trim, Prefect's badge. He was probably a Sixth or Seventh Year.

"Yeah," she said.

"You must be "Texas,"" said the Prefect with a smile. "I'm Charlie Weasley."

"My notoriety seems to be spreading," Daria said sardonically.

"I'm Daria Morgendorffer."

"I'm going down to visit Hagrid," said Charlie. "That's his hut down there. Do you care to come along?"

Daria was tempted to demur, then decided against it.

_Why not_, she thought. "Sure," she said. Together, they walked down the pathway leading to the groundskeeper's hut.

Charlie Weasley knocked on the door.

"'oo is it?" said Hagrid.

"Charlie," said Charlie. "With a guest."

"Well, come in," said Hagrid. "I've got some tea brewing and you can have a cup."

Charlie opened the door and Daria followed him in. She knew who Hagrid was: Hagrid was the groundskeeper at Hogwarts and ate at the High Table with the rest of the school's senior staff at evening meals, but she didn't know him very well. He was wearing trousers and a long woolen coat festooned with pockets.

"And you've brought company!" said Hagrid with a smile.

"I don' remember all of the students' names, so you're…" said Hagrid.

"Daria Morgendorffer," said Daria.

"The girl from Texas," said Hagrid.

"That's me," said Daria, mentally sighing to herself.

"Are you a farm girl?" asked Hagrid.

"Not really," said Daria. "I visited some friends' ranch a few times, I've been to a couple of rodeos, but that doesn't make me a farm girl."

Hagrid looked disappointed. "I see a couple o' cowboy movies," he said, "and I was hoping ye'd like to pitch in."

"Hagrid's not just the groundskeeper," Charlie cut in. "He also helps Professor Kettleburn with some of the larger magical animals."

"I'm willing to look, but I don't know what good I'd be," Daria said warily. "The most I've done is helped shovel horse droppings from a stable and help sweep up stray wool after the sheep got sheared."

Hagrid and Charlie laughed. "Tha's more'n a lot of the young'uns can do these days," said Hagrid. "Most wizards and witches grew up in town these days."

_So did I_, thought Daria.

"Still, you look like ye might be able to help."

"I'll think about it."

"So Charlie," said Hagrid, turning his attention to Charlie Weasley, "Wha's life like for ye these days?"

"Busy," said Charlie. "Prefect duties, Quidditch, studying for my NEWTS. Not much time for play these days…"

Daria let Charlie and Hagrid talk to each other and looked around Hagrid's hut, occasionally sipping some of the tea she'd been given. Hagrid's hut was, well—different. It was small, cluttered, and the roof beams and a couple of the walls were festooned with traps and pelts and wooden cages that made Daria think about Farrah's uncle Mr. Skein back in Highland, except that Hagrid's gear all looked like it was still used, and not just décor. It reminded her of Mr. Skein's house and the Penrick ranch. Daria thought of Farrah, Mr. Skein, and the Penricks and her heart twinged. She missed all of them, particularly Farrah, and mourned the aftermath of their falling-out.

"You look thoughtful, Texas," said Charlie.

"I'm thinking of old friends back in Texas," said Daria. "This place reminds me of them more than anyplace else at school. I miss them and I wonder how they're getting along."

-(((O-O)))—

Charlie and the little Ravenclaw girl left a short time later, Bill pleading that he was going to be patrolling the corridors later on as part of his Prefect duties and that he wanted to do a little studying before he started.

The little Ravenclaw was interesting. She wasn't an outgoing girl: she said little and spent much of her time listening to him and Charlie talk and occasionally glancing around his hut. There wasn't that much he could tell about her: the girl was very clever, like most Claws, honest, but kept most of her thoughts to herself. He and Charlie did get her to admit that she was a Barksdale, although from some American branch he'd never heard of. She didn't put on the usual Barksdale airs, which made him wonder how well she got along with the rest of the Barksdale clan.

There was something else about her, something about her mannerisms and the way she moved, something that was very un-Barksdale. He was reminded of someone he'd once known, not well, not recently. Someone he knew back when he was still a Hogwarts student and when Armando Dippet was Headmaster.

-(((O-O)))-

Daria soon learned that there was a class she disliked: the History of Magic. It wasn't the material itself: that was actually interesting. The problem was Professor Binns. It wasn't that Binns was dead: some of the ghosts she'd met back in Highland as well around the Hogwarts grounds were interesting people and she enjoyed listening to them. But Binns was a deadly bore with a dull, dusty, monotone sort of voice that caused her mind to drift off somewhere else or forced her to fight not going to sleep.

She wondered how she'd cope with his class and decided to ask some of the older students. She found the second Slytherin girl in the library a day later. She looked sufficiently distracted from what she was reading that Daria decided to risk talking to her.

"Excuse me," Daria said quietly, and waited for the older student's response.

"What do you want, Texas?" asked the second Slytherin girl.

"I am taking Professor Bin's History of Magic class. Do I have to take notes or can I just read the books?" asked Daria.

The older girl smiled. The auburn-haired Texas witch was being crafty.

"I've suffered through five years of Binns thus far and it took me months to form the question you've just asked me," said the Slytherin. "Professor Binns' lectures seldom depart from his texts. Just study the textbooks and you'll do fine."

"Shh!" said a voice to one side. Daria looked over and saw Madam Pince, the librarian. Madam Pince took the rule about being quiet in the library far more seriously than her counterpart at James Ferguson Elementary School ever did, but sometimes that could be annoying. Daria waited until Madam Pince's attention was diverted, then mouthed "Thanks" to the Slytherin girl.

Daria got a surprise when she returned from the library that evening. Marietta Edgecombe and Simone Willoughby were waiting for her. Marietta Edgecombe's suitcase was on the floor.

"You aren't going home, are you?" said Anahita. "We only just got here."

"No, I'm just changing rooms," said Marietta. She gave Daria a dirty look.

_What's her problem_, thought Daria. _It's not like I peed in her soup tureen_. Daria had not made any hard and fast friends in her dorm room except for Dahlia, but she was warming up to Anahita Waring and to her other roommates. She and Marietta had not been on especially good terms. Daria tried to be polite, but somehow she had managed to unintentionally find ways to get under Edgecombe's skin. Marietta didn't like her jokes, her cynicism, her accent, or how often she made references to non-magical culture.

"What I'd like to do is accommodate Miss Edgecombe by having her room with her old friend Miss Chang," said Simone. "She'll trade places with someone from the other first-year dormitory room. Do you have any objections?" She looked at Daria as if to say _"You'd better not have any."_

There was a chorus of "Nos" from the other girls. "No problem," Daria added, shrugging. It wasn't like any of the girls had had any choice in picking their room mates when they were settled here.

"Excellent," said Simone. "Your new roommate will be here shortly."

A few minutes later Majda Paderewsky knocked on the door frame and said "Can I come in?".

Anahita looked at Majda and smiled. Paderewsky was Muggle-born and Muggle-raised, but all right in spite of that.

"Welcome to the ranch," she said.

Daria put her hand over her mouth in time to conceal her grin at Anahita's snark. _She's learning_, she thought.


	29. First teacher Student Conference

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter 29: First Teacher-Student Conference

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise, and neither expect nor deserve any financial compensation for this work of fiction. I am writing solely for my own amusement

Positive reviews would be nice, though...

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

_(Flitwick's POV)_

Professor Flitwick opened the next folder on his desk and read the parchment of the next student he was going to interview.

_Daria Lynn Morgendorffer. Born April 9th, 1979 in Austin, Texas, USA_

_Age: Eleven years_

_Parents: Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer, Muggle_  
_Jacob Morgendorffer, Muggle_

_Education: Completed sixth grade_

The file included a photograph, an unmoving Muggle-style image. The girl was gazing at the photographer in disapproval.

The form did not include more useful information. Flitwick wished it did. Through contacts with Muggle-born former Hogwarts students and their kin, he'd learned that Muggle schools often had files that listed such data as medical conditions, previous education, and places of residence as well as academic scores. He'd come to the conclusion that Hogwarts ought to have such things and had joined Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout in pleading that such information be recorded, even if it meant that the school might need to hire additional staff, but Dumbledore had rebuffed his request.

_The girl should be here soon_, he mused. His musing ended with a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," he said, and the girl entered.

"Good morning, Professor," said the girl, a little nervous but polite.

"Good morning, Miss Morgendorffer," he replied, "please take a seat."

The girl sat down in the chair in front of his desk.

"How are you enjoying your first week at Hogwarts?" he asked.

"It's interesting," said the girl. "And quite a change from my old school."

"You went to school with other children?" said Professor Flitwick.

"Yes, Sir," said the girl. "A Mundane public school."

_Ah, the current North American wizarding term for Muggle_, he thought.

She stopped for a moment and looked thoughtful. "Your pardon, Sir, I don't think that properly translates," she continued. "A government-operated day school."

"And the rest of the students were Muggles?" said Professor Flitwick.

"Actually no," said the girl. "A lot of the magical kids around Highland put in a couple of years at public schools before they go off to Ilvermorny or someplace else."

Neither of them said anything. He used the time to look her over. The girl was short, under five feet. She had pale skin and long auburn hair. Her spectacles covered a pair of gray eyes. She was looking at him as if trying to make up her mind about what she thought of him.

His years of dueling, followed by years of teaching had taught to read body-language as well as facial expressions. The girl was tense, but it was the sort of tension common to first-years conferring with their Head of House for the first time.

The girl's speech, physical appearance, and body language were a mass of contradictions. By her appearance, the girl was clearly a Barksdale: a fecund family of wizards and witches that had been trying for many decades to advance to the uppermost tiers of British wizarding society yet always falling short. Her posture was more relaxed than a typical Barksdale; it lacked the typical Barksdale social climber's tension. Most Barksdales wanted to be seen as high-status wizards and witches; this girl, by contrast, didn't seem to give a rap.

Then there were the eyes. They were an interesting gray color that seldom appeared outside those of the oldest and most powerful families of Magical Britain.

He decided to ask her more questions.

"Are there a lot of wizarding children in your town?" he said.

"Yes and no," said the girl. "I suspect that Highland and the surrounding area has more witches and wizards than most parts of west Texas, but I don't know how that compares to wizarding areas back East or here in Britain. Besides, there aren't all that many people out in west Texas anyway."

"Have you always known that you were a witch?" he asked.

"At a conscious level, no," said the girl. "I didn't wise up until last November when I blew a hole in my bedroom wall with a wand I'd bought at a flea market."

Her story made him smile. Her story was uncommon but not unknown. "Did the other children in your town know that you were a witch?" he asked.

"A couple of girls at my old school knew that I was a witch for years," said Daria. "So did a nasty Muggle neighbor girl who used to live across the street."

"Did that girl ever see you perform magic?" he asked.

"She never saw me perform any magic, but she was walking along a street where I tossed a rattlesnake that was getting ready to bite my little sister."

"You weren't trying to throw it at her, were you?" he said.

"I wasn't aiming at her or anybody," said the girl, a trace of resentment in her voice. "That snake was getting ready to strike Ronnie and I wanted it far away. It was my bad luck that it landed so close to where she was walking."

"So tell me about your parents," he said.

"Well, my Mom and Dad married about nine years before I was born. My Mom was the daughter of a society lady in Virginia while my Dad was the son of a military veteran. They met in college, married, moved to a commune, then my Mom went to law school. She's now a trial attorney in Texas while my dad is a senior manager at a wholesale distributor's.

"Do either of your parents come from Wizarding backgrounds?" he asked.

"My Mom is what people in the US call a "Wild Squib," but neither my Mom nor my Dad are involved in the magical world," said the girl.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" he asked.

"I have two sisters, Quinn and Veronica," said the girl. "Both of them are younger than I am."

"Does your younger sister Quinn have gray eyes like yours?" he asked.

"Nope," said the girl. "They're brown. So are Ronnie's."

Something told him that the girl's background was dodgy, he thought. There were a lot of little details that weren't adding up, even for a Muggle-born witch born of a disowned Squib parent. He'd have to think about them later.

"So how do you find living at sharing a room with four other girls?" he asked.

"It's a little crowded but I think I can deal with it," she said.

"Have you ever shared a room with other girls before?" he asked.

"I spent several years sharing a bedroom with my younger sister Quinn," the girl replied. "Quinn and I are different people, but we managed."

"Miss Willoughby said that one of the girls in your room moved out," he said.

"She did," said the girl.

_An ambiguous answer_, he thought. This girl might have made a fine Slytherin. He wondered why she was sorted into his House and not into the House of the Serpents. But then again so very few Muggle-born wizards and witches were sorted into Slytherin these days.

"I don't know what Marietta's reasons are," said the girl, "but I wasn't getting along with her. Marietta is an old friend of Cho's, so her changing rooms doesn't bother me that much. Besides, I like Majda better, at least if we don't re-create the Pole versus Jew thing."

"The Pole versus Jew thing?" he asked.

"My Dad is Jewish, Majda's folks were originally Polish and probably Catholic. They did not get along in the old country," she replied.

More information about the Muggle world he was unaware of, he realized.

"Are both of your parents Jewish?" he asked.

"My father is, my mom's more like a lapsed Methodist," said the girl. "I'm not much of anything."

From his experience with earlier Ravenclaws, Professor Flitwick knew that Methodism was a Christian sect, although he didn't understand the details. Despite the fact that there was still so much about British Muggle society that he didn't understand and that he knew even less about the American Muggle world, he made a decision: this girl probably wasn't a Pure Blood supremacist. He might be wrong, but he could wait to find out later.

"What do you plan to study while you're here, Miss Morgendorffer?" he asked.

"Right now I'm content to take the core studies," the girl replied. "The only thing I do know for sure right now is that I want to get a grip on my magic. I'm told that causing Obscurials is a real bad thing."

Professor Flitwick smiled. He decided that he might enjoy Miss Morgendorffer's deadpan humor.

"I know this is far too early to ask," he said, "but do you have any plans for what you want to do after you graduate from Hogwarts?"

"I plan to go back to—Muggle school, get my GED, then go to college and become a writer," said the girl.

It was clear that this girl was one of those Muggle-born students who still planned to keep a place in the Muggle world. Flitwick wondered if the girl would still be of the same mind six years from now.

-(((O-O)))-

_(Daria's POV)_

Daria looked at her pocket-watch. It was time. She knocked softly on the Professor's door.

"Come in," he said.

"Good morning, Miss Morgendorffer," said Professor Flitwick, "please take a seat."

She sat down in the chair in front of his desk. This was the first time she'd actually gotten to talk to him for more than a few moments during or after class. He sounded like he was glad to see her. _Maybe he was_, she thought. It was an unfamiliar thought but a very pleasant one.

She was again struck by the professor's appearance. Professor Flitwick wasn't just short, but tiny, with sharp features and mutton-chop whiskers. He looked a lot like a garden gnome turned academic, despite what she suspected were his goblin features.

"How are you enjoying your first week at Hogwarts?" he asked.

"It's interesting," she told him, "And quite a change from my old school."

And it was. She actually _was_ enjoying it, except for the school's confusing layout. The school codes were tighter and more structured than Highland, but it looked like most of the kids were there to learn.

His questions about her earlier education gave her food for thought. _How_ were _British wizarding children educated?_ Most of the wizarding children she'd met back in Highland had put in time at the public schools and she'd assumed that was the case everywhere. It looked like she was probably wrong.

He was amused to hear the story about her flea market wand, but not cruelly or condescendingly amused, which earned him more points in his favor. He also showed an interest in her family and what her parents did for a living, even though she doubted that he'd ever teach Quinn or Veronica, let alone meet them.

His questions about her dorm were also revealing. Was there something more to Edgecombe's desire to swap rooms? She knew that she and Edgecombe didn't like each other that much, but was Edgecombe's action symptomatic of something else? She didn't know.

He seemed a bit baffled by her brief discourse about her and Majda. She was beginning to suspect that if she knew next to zilch about wizarding history and culture, all too many wizards and witches knew as little or less about Muggle society.

This did not strike her as a good thing. As Mrs. Wise had said once or twice about some Highlander's provincialism, these people might need to get out more often.

Still, she was coming to believe that she could like and trust this…well, she wasn't sure she could call him a man, she could trust this guy.

Her head started feeling strange. It was something that had occurred when she was much younger, but it was stronger here than it had ever been back in the US.

"Do you have any questions, Miss Morgendorffer?" he asked.

His walls weren't just covered with bookshelves, there were also a couple of framed documents hanging on the walls. Something told her that they might be something more than his teaching certificate or some Wizarding award for academic achievement

"Yes, sir," said Daria. "Pardon my curiosity, but what are those two documents over there?"

"My dueling awards," Professor Flitwick replied. "I used to be a professional duelist before I turned to teaching. I I was a three-time winner in the All-European Wizarding Duelists' Competition. I made it to the finals a few other times.

_A nice guy, competent, and a bad-ass_, thought Daria. _I'm impressed_. Despite the fact that she wanted so much to believe him and that she thought that he was telling the truth, she told herself to research his claim.

The thought of studying under someone like the British Wizarding World's equivalent of Yoda pleased her, although she hoped that Professor Flitwick wouldn't make her do the sort of physical training that Yoda put his apprentices through.

That thing in her head was still there. To her dismay, it was even stronger than before. It wasn't a headache; it was like there was something inside her, something inside her head, something that wanted to come out, something that wanted to come out _**bad**_.

Professor Flitwick saw her expression and body language and looked concerned.

"Miss Morgendorffer, are you all right?" he said.

Daria glanced back at him, feeling embarrassed. "I'm not sure, sir," she replied.

"Can you stand?" he said. "Should I send for Madam Pomfrey?"

Then it happened. She felt her jaw drop and felther lungs take a deep breath and then—

Dang!

-(((O-O)))—

She came back to herself a little later. She felt better, although she felt embarrassed by her temporary loss of control. Whatever-it-was had cleared up, she wasn't making faces, but she suspected that something had just happened and that some time had just passed. How much?

"Your pardon, Professor, what just happened?" she said. "I hope I didn't start cussing or anything. If I did, I apologize." _Please, God, please don't let it be something like Tourette's syndrome_, she told herself.

To her surprise, Professor Flitwick didn't look like he needed to call in Madam Pomfrey. As a matter of fact, he looked a little awed. "Miss Morgendorffer, you just prophesied," he said.

"Oh, boy," Daria replied with a lack of enthusiasm.

-(((O-O)))—

Author's note: Daria's prophecy would have made Britain's Ministry of Defense very unhappy. She unintentionally gave away the start of the air war against Saddam Hussein's Iraq during 1990's Operation Desert Storm. However, since only she and Professor Flitwick were present in his office when she made the prophecy, and since Professor Flitwick doesn't pay close attention to Muggle affairs, no harm was done to Her Majesty's armed forces.


	30. Dark Arts and Flying Lessons

_Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl_. Chapter 30: Dark Arts And Flying Brooms

DISCLAIMER: _Daria_ is the creation of Glen Eichler and is owned by MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither property. I am writing for my amusement, not for profit, and neither expect nor deserve any financial reward for this work of fiction. 

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl 

Daria's next class was Defense Against the Dark Arts. She looked forward to it with a mixture of worry and anticipation. By rights, Defense Against the Dark Arts ought to be the most exciting class. Daria knew very little about the Dark Arts and what little she knew came from the Sophie books she'd read when she was younger. While a lot of the information in the Sophie books turned out to be accurate, just as much turned out to be either suspect or false. She was beginning to wonder if the MACUSA might have had a hand in producing the series and that they might have been deliberately written as disinformation. Either way, she knew she needed better information and education.

By now she'd been at Hogwarts long enough for the upper-year students to get used enough to her and to feel comfortable enough to ask them questions. She started asking some of the older Ravenclaws if they knew anything about the DADA professor and learned that most of them knew nothing about him. She learned that he was new, just as his predecessor had been the year before and the predecessor's predecessor. Violet Banks told her that there was something off about the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. The professorship had been constantly rotating, with professors lasting only one year, then either quitting or falling victim to some curse or other. Something was dodgy. Daria didn't know enough about magic to know what it was, except that it sounded dark.

She made her way to the DADA classroom; she'd learned that it was near the dungeons. She walked into the classroom and looked around for a seat. Both seats next to Dahlia Banks were taken, so Daria seated herself next to Anahita Waring. She glanced over to the other side of the room side and saw students wearing green and silver neckties. Just like at her other core classes, she and her fellow Ravenclaws would be paired off with students from another house: in this case, Slytherin. She wasn't entirely surprised; Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were the houses that had had the biggest intake this year.

She wondered if she knew anybody over there. Curious, she looked over at the Slytherin side of the room and saw both of her distant Barksdale cousins and frowned. The Le Noir girl was with them.

_Crap_, she thought to herself.

The instructor walked in. He was bare-headed. He was dressed in a long, flowing black cloak with trousers, shirt, and a jacket cut in Wizarding fashion.

"Good mornin' to ye," he said. "My name is Connall MacRae and I'm gang ta bae yer Professor. I'm here to teach ye weans Defense Against the Dark Arts." He then wrote DADA and then his name on the chalk board.

_He sounds Scots_, she thought, which she later remembered as one of her Hogwarts Captain Obvious moments.

"We'll first start by taking roll," he said.

"Allstone, Corwin," he read

"Here!" said Corwin.

"Banks, Dahlia," he read.

"Here!" said Dahlia.

Barksdale, Callista!" he read.

"Here!" said one of the two Barksdale cousins.

Barksdale, Livia," he read.

"Here!" said the other Barksdale cousin.

Cadwallader, Rufus," he read, breaking the rhythm of girl's names.

"Here!" said a Slytherin boy with what Daria thought was a North-of-England accent.

"Carline, Caitriona," read the professor.

A Slytherin girl raised her hand and said "Here!" in a thick Scottish accent, making the Professor smile.

"Chang, Cho," read Professor MacRae.

"Here!" said Cho, her Scottish accent showing.

Professor MacRae nodded in approval.

And so down the alphabet until he reached the M's.

"Morgen_," he began, then "Morgendorffer, Daria."

"Here," she said.

He read the remaining names and smiled. "I see ye're all here and we hae one, two, three bonnie Barksdale lasses," he joked.

Callista Barksdale raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Barksdale?" said Professor MacRae.

"Excuse me, Professor," she said, pointing at Daria. "That girl over there isn't a real Barksdale."

Anahita Waring heard the disapproving gasps of her fellow Ravenclaws at Callista Barksdale's comment. She glanced over at Daria to see her reaction and saw the look of cold stone fury on her face. Callista's comment must have cut her roommate to the quick. Daria had talked a little about her family in the dorm and Anahita had seen photos of Daria's mother and sisters—they, like her, had unmistakably Barksdale features. The Barksdale girl's accusation was dead wrong: why did she make it? Probably some Barksdale reason or other. She put her hand on Daria's shoulder to show her support. Daria responded by reaching back with her right hand and patting it.

Professor MacRae was no fool and, unlike most new hires for Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts post, he'd had previous teaching experience.

"Miss Barksdale," he said coldly. "Hae ye ever seen Miss Morgendorffer before she came tae Hogwarts?"

"Aye," she responded with a smirk and a mock-Scottish accent. "I saw her on the train," earning looks of disapproval not only from Professor MacRae, but also from the other Scots in the room.

"Weel, lass, ye'd better listen," he said coldly. "I am na' interested in yer family feuds with gels ye'd never seen before ye came here. Ye _weel_ behave, an' ye weel show good manners within this classroom. Five points and detention, and I weel be talking tae Professor Snape aboot today."

There were gasps from the Slytherin side of the classroom and looks of disapproval. Anahita noted that not all of those looks were directed at Daria or the Professor. Some of them were directed at the Barksdale cousins. They'd already cost their house points. 

-(((O-O)))—

Anahita was no legilemens, so she was unable to overhear what Daria was thinking. She saw Daria's expression of shock, then her look of cold fury at the Barksdale girl's insult, was unable to hear Daria's inner voice. If she had been, she would have overheard her roommate silently saying "If we can't be friends, then Game On, Chickies."

-(((O-O)))—

Despite his thick accent, Professor MacRae was thoroughly professional. If he lacked a British Muggle's teacher's certificate, he not only had a lesson plan but control of his classroom. He began his class by asking his pupils if they had any idea as to the nature of the Dark Arts. After writing down several definitions on the chalk board, he then asked the class to begin categorizing the threats they presented.

Daria spent the first part of the give-and-take clenching her teeth and trying to take notes on parchment with her still-unfamiliar quill. She felt uncomfortable doing so; back in Highland, she wasn't that afraid of raising her hand when the questions lulled, but she was still behind on her course reading and did not care to be shown up by her better-prepared classmates.

Professor MacRae devoted the second half of the class to defenses against some of the charms and curses they might be facing, as well as charms that could be used against some of the more dangerous magical creatures they might be facing. To Daria's relief, her recollections from the Sophie series helped a lot; the wizards and witches in the Sophie books had used some of the shield charms that Professor MacRae had talked about, although the Sophie author had given those charms different names. Daria took down notes and wondered if there were methods for her to organize what she was learning.

Class ended. Anahita put her hand on her shoulder. "That was an awful thing to say," she said.

"Thank you," Daria replied.

"That was horrible," Dahlia said with indignation. "How could she?"

"Maybe she thought she could get away with it," said Dennis MacLeod, like her, a Ravenclaw fledgling.

"She won't," said Corwin. "When she returns to Slytherin, she'll find that her housemates won't be happy with her for costing them points. Professor Snape won't be pleased."

Daria made a half-smile. She hoped it would be true. She and her fellow Ravenclaws then headed off for the greenhouses and Herbology. She hoped that Professor Sprout wasn't still angry at her for her inaction regarding Cuthbert's torn knee.

She looked for Cuthbert and to her dismay, she didn't see him. Despite Cuthbert's absence, Professor Sprout taught today's class as if it was just another day in the greenhouse. Daria took down names and notes about magical plants, their properties, and some of their uses. After class, she came up to Professor Sprout and said "Excuse me, Professor, but where's Cuthbert?"

"He's fine," said Professor Sprout. "After I learned about his limp I sent him over to Madam Pomfrey. She told me that it had healed wrong and she sent him off to Saint Mungo's to have his knee set right. He spent two nights there and should be back here after another day of laying-up."

"Thank you for asking about him," she said.

"Thank you for telling me, Ma'am," said Daria. "I kind of like the guy. We go back."

"You're welcome," said Professor Sprout. "Now if you'll excuse me, Miss Langtry has a question." She turned away to talk to a Gryffindor girl who'd been waiting her turn. 

-(((O-O)))— 

Daria had lunch at the Ravenclaw table, sitting near Anahita and Dahlia. Several of the girl had been grumbling about Professor MacRae's thick Scottish accent. Marietta had been one of the grumblers.

"His accent is so thick that you can't understand him. It's worse than Morgendorffer's," she complained. Her voice carried enough for Daria to take notice. She looked over at her direction, glowered at Edgecombe, and noted that Cho Chang wasn't there when she said it; Cho was visiting the Hufflepuff table.

A couple of the Scots at the table had overheard her and gave her dirty looks. Daria had no sympathy for Marietta; she ought to have known better. Daria suspected that even Cho might have been offended—while Cho didn't strike her as a likely recruit for the Scottish Independence Party, she was proud of being a Scot by birth, if not by blood.

Daria sat there expectantly, waiting to see how the Ravenclaw Scots would react to Marietta's complaining when Majda tossed her into the conversation by saying "And what do you think, Daria?".

Daria smiled, then said "Home Court Advantage." Some of the Muggle-born understood the term if not the context, the wizarding-raised didn't understand any of it.

"What do you mean?" said Cynthia Farmer, intrigued.

"Well, Hogwarts is in Scotland," said Daria.

A couple of the Scots at the table grinned.

"And not only that, we're in the Highlands," Daria went on. A couple of the English girls decided that they didn't like the way this conversation was going and gave Daria looks of disapproval.

"So I reckon Professor MacRae doesn't think he has to tailor his speech to make the Sassenachs happy," she concluded, slightly ratcheting up her west Texas accent.

Several of the Scots laughed at her comment.

"Which leaves you in our predicament," said Cynthia Farmer. "I doubt you understand him that well either."

"Touché," said Daria. "I guess I'll have to struggle along as best I can." 

-=(((O-O)))—

Her first formal flight lesson was that afternoon. Violet had told her and Dahlia that flying class was taught by Madam Hooch, who had put in many years at professional Quidditch and was a noted flyer.

She and her fellow Ravenclaws left the comfort of the Castle and made their way towards a flat, open field lying opposite the Forbidden Forest. The weather outdoors was cool and damp: it had rained late the day before and during the morning, although the cloud cover was now breaking up and they could see some blue sky. Daria heard her shoe soles make occasional squishing sounds and looked down at the mud finding its way onto her shoes and socks with disapproval.

She wondered how she'd do. She was grateful that this wasn't going to be her very first time on a broom: the Aldretes had managed to coax her onto what they called a training broom, an older model that had been charmed not to rise much more than a meter off the ground. Daria had flown around a large pasture a few times to get used to the idea and sensations of broom flight. It had been interesting, but she wasn't sure what she thought of it.

Anahita looked over at Daria. She saw that Texas girl was not wearing an approved Hogwarts scarf.

"Daria, that's not a school scarf you're wearing," she said. "Is there something special about it?"

"It was my grandfather's," Daria replied. "He gave it to me before he died."

"He wasn't a wizard, was he?" said Dahlia.

"No," Daria replied. "He was a Muggle."

"So does your scarf have any meaning?" she said.

"It does," said Daria. "He was a Marine aviator and he gave me the scarf to wear if I ever took flying lessons. We might not be going up in single-engine aircraft, but I think this counts."

"A Muggle flyer!" Anahita exclaimed. She'd heard horrible things about Muggle flying machines from her cousins. "Is your grandfather still alive?" she said.

"No, he died last year," Daria replied.

"I'm sorry," said Anahita. "Not a prang, I hope?"

_A crash_, she meant. Daria had learned some British idioms and tried to imagine the old man she'd met in Coalton flying on a broomstick. Her imagination refused to co-operate.

"No, a stroke," she said.

They reached the field. Daria knew next to nothing about aviation, but she spotted two big differences between this open, grassy patch and a proper airfield: no runway, and no wind sock. She hoped that she wasn't expected to take off into the wind.

If there was no runway, there were two lines of broom neatly lined up and waiting for them.

If there were brooms, there was no Professor. Daria, Anahita, and the other students all looked around to see if they could spot her. Even Daria could recognize her by sight.

"Where is Madam Hooch?" asked Dahlia Banks.

A woman in a leather jacket and denims swooped down from uphill by broom and hastily dismounted.

"Good morning, class," she said.

"Good morning," replied the students. _This wasn't Madam Hooch. Who was she?_

"My name is Ariel Handley," she said. "I'll be teaching your class today."

A hand went up. One of the Slytherins, Daria noted.

"Yes," said the girl. Daria noted that the girl didn't seem too sure of herself.

"Where is Madam Hooch?" asked the Slytherin boy.

"Madam Hooch had a medical emergency and is currently at St. Mungo's," said Miss Handley. "She should be back the day after tomorrow."

So this Handley girl was a substitute. If this had been a class taught by the Highland Independent School District, Daria would have turned away and walked back to the Castle, points or no points.

Miss Handley looked nervous and decided to call roll. _Either she's trying to cover her nervousness or she wants to know who's going to break their neck this afternoon_, she thought sardonically.

After she finished taking roll, Mrs. Handley invited everyone to go stand by a broom. The wizarding children led off, followed by Daria and a couple of the stouter-hearted Muggle-born while the other Muggle-born children hung back.

"Come on now," said Miss Handley, "Everyone by a broom!"

Moments later, everyone was standing by a broom.

A couple of children seemed to be south-paws and Miss Handley had to tell them to stand to the left of their broomsticks. "Now everyone stick their right hand over their broom and say "Up!"."

"Up!" everyone shouted.

Daria's broom trembled for a moment, then rose into her hand. She frowned.

Miss Handley then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the ends, then walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. She reached Daria and her broom and grinned.

"A Mexican straddle!" she said. "Did you do that by accident or on purpose?"

_A Mexican straddle_, thought Daria. She'd never heard the term before.

"I'm from Texas," said Daria. "This is how I was taught to mount a broom."

"Well, you're in Britain, so you'll have to learn the way we do it here," said Miss Handley.

Daria grudgingly shifted her grip and position. This Hogwarts style felt uncomfortable and wrong.

Miss Handley made some more corrections, then walked to the center of the field.

"Now when I blow my whistle, you kick off the ground HARD!" she exclaimed, for once sounding like an authority figure and not a student-teacher. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, then come back down by leaning forward slightly. On my mark, three, two, one…" She blew her whistle.

Daria tilted her broom slightly backward, kicked off and rose in the air. She then leaned slightly forward, but in spite of her posture and her desire to level out, her broom kept rising. Concerned, she leaned forward and to her alarm realized that her broom continued to rise, howbeit slowly.

The broom was not responding. Daria knew that she knew little about brooms but decided that this broom was messed up. The broom had already risen to ten feet and continued to rise. She was going to have to bail, and bail soon. This broom lacked stirrups. She made a split-second inventory: was there anything she was wearing that might snag? There wasn't.

"Morgendorffer, come back down here!" shouted Miss Handley.

There was only one thing to do, Daria hoped it would work. She made a barrel roll. She was now upside down. She shifted her legs, then as she expected, she found herself dangling from the broom by her fingers. She looked down.

Twelve feet. Now or never. She prayed that she didn't break anything when she landed, then let go.

She landed in a heap in the muddy grass. Fortunately, most of the impact was on her hip and butt. It hurt like hell, but she didn't think anything was broken. In spite of her self-congratulation, she was certain that she was going to bruise.

Miss Handley ran up to her. "Morgendorffer!" she said. "What the Hell just happened?"

"Bad broom," said Daria. "That broom's messed up. It wouldn't respond to my commands. I decided to bail before I got too high."

"So why didn't you come back down?" said Miss Handley, a tinge of panic mixed in with her anger.

"Because the broom wasn't responding," Daria replied.

"Are you hurt?" asked Miss Handley.

"I don't think so," Daria replied. She rose awkwardly then found herself standing on her feet.

A couple of her fellow Ravenclaws started applauding.

"That was a poor landing, Morgendorffer," said Miss Handley, trying to shift back into teacher mode.

_But I'm alive_, thought Daria, _and that's what counts_.

"You, Coombs," she said, pointing at a straw-haired Slytherin boy about Daria's age. "Take Miss Morgendorffer to Madam Pomfrey's to make sure that she's all right. Chop-Chop!"

The Slytherin boy guided Daria away from the field and towards the Castle. He looked at her with a mixture of awe and concern.

"Was that your first time on a broom?" he asked.

"Kinda-sorta," said Daria. "I flew on a kiddie broom a couple of times back home."

"Are you a Yank?" asked Coombs.

"Guilty as charged," Daria replied. "I'm from Texas."

"Is that why you're wearing that scarf?" asked Coombs.

"No, my grandfather was a Marine aviator during the Second Great Muggle War," Daria replied. "He wore the first time he ever flew."

"In a Muggle airplane," said Coombs. Despite his house and his probable Pureblood ancestry, the young wizard looked impressed.

"Don't worry too much about your landing," he said. "I've got mates who fell off their brooms when they were learning to fly, but don't tell anybody."

"Tell them what?" said Daria, making the young wizard grin.

"You know, there's an old Muggle pilot's saying," said Daria.

"What?" said Coombs. His tone of voice said that he didn't expect anything profound from her.

"It goes like this," said Daria. "Any landing that you can walk away from is a good landing." 

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl

Author's Notes: Several months ago, I read a _Harry Potter_ fan novel with an original character who began attending Hogwarts the year before Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger arrived at Hogwarts. Since canon _Harry Potter's_ Defense Against The Dark Arts Class had a constantly-rotating professorship, the author chose to have a Scottish Highlander as that year's Professor. I was so impressed that I wanted to borrow the idea and give her credit in this story. Unfortunately, I forgot to write it down.

I still don't remember your name. Whoever you are, wherever you are, thank you for a wonderful idea! I wish I knew your screen name so I could give you credit.

Also, I apologize to any Scots or folk of Scottish extraction reading this. I'm from Texas and my command of Scots dialect (particularly that of the Highlands) is extremely limited. I apologize for my gaffs. 

-=(((O-O)))— 

Yes, the broom scene is derived from the flying lesson from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone/Philosopher's Stone_. I decided to explore how this version of Daria Morgendorffer would handle being in poor Neville's situation. I theorized that Neville didn't get the only bad school broom and that the reason poor Neville is likely to get a bad broom the following year is because of the short-comings of institutional memory. The substitute teacher may or may not have told Madam Hooch about Daria's bad broom or just left a written memo. Had Madam Hooch been present at Daria's flying lesson instead of a substitute, it would have been highly likely that Neville's first flying lesson the following year would have passed without incident.


	31. First Potions Class with Professor Snape

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter 31: First Potion Class

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I owne neither franchise. I neither seek nor deserve any sort of financial compensation for this work of fiction. I am writing solely for my own amusement.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*

One class had Daria worried: Potions. Potions had acquired the reputation as being one of the toughest classes at Hogwarts: the professor wasn't just strict, but also extremely sarcastic and demanding and was reputed to favor Slytherin, the House he headed. He was said to insult his pupils and took off points at the drop of a hat. Moreover, Potions wasn't just one period, but a grueling two-period class. Thursday was her first double-potions class.

Daria knew she was coming in better-prepared than most Muggle-born students. She'd already put in over half a year of potions class with Mrs. Ocampo and had already brewed over two dozen potions herself. Still, she knew that despite her experience, she was still a beginner—a beginner who would be facing an unfamiliar, demanding, and strict instructor.

Still, she tried to prepare. She'd read her old potions book cover to cover back in Highland and had read Snape's Potions textbook almost from when she bought it in London. She'd supplemented her reading with stuff from US Center for Disease Control concerning poisons l and a Wizarding pamphlet she'd found and stolen from one of Preacher Babcock's book-burning ceremonies.

She'd also asked questions about the class itself. Jane Prince, a third-year Ravenclaw, told her that students usually brewed potions in pairs and not by themselves. That was reassuring and dismaying at the same time. On the one hand, she wouldn't have to do it alone; on the other, she didn't know her dorm-mates' talent or expertise. Several of her dorm mates had already decided to pair off even before the start of class: Chang with Edgecombe, Anahita with Dahlia, Armitage with Farmer, and Wolfe either with Majda or with Tabitha. She didn't have a partner yet.

Daria's foreboding increased as she descended the stairs to the lower levels of the castle. Potion-making class was held down in one of the Castle's dungeons. It was not only colder than the main part of the castle, but also darker and damper. When she finally found the classroom she found herself instantly creeped out. It wasn't so much the darkness as the poor lighting, what she thought was the poor arrangement of the laboratory (In her opinion, Mrs. Ochoa's lab was much nicer), as some of the other stuff she saw in the classroom. The pickled critters sitting on the shelves really creeped her out.

As she expected, she and her fellow Ravenclaws would be sharing their class with students from another house. Looking them over, she quickly recognized familiar faces from Flying Lessons and realized that she'd be sharing her class with Slytherins again.

_Crap_.

What bugged her about the arrangement wasn't that the students were from the House of the Serpents. A couple of the guys and girls she'd met in other classes were at least tolerable. What bothered her was that she'd be sharing her class with her dear distant English cousins, the Le Noir bimbo, and other Pure Blood snobs who hated the fact that she and other Muggle-born students not only were there at Hogwarts, but probably resented the fact that they breathed the same air as they did. _Well, nothing for it,_ she thought grimly. She set her cauldron and her tools on one of the lab tables, then returned to her seat to wait for Professor Snape.

The door flung open and Professor Snape strode into the classroom in a swirl of black robes and cloak. His complexion was pale, his hair was shoulder-length, and he had a large nose. Daria smirked to herself, giving Professor Snape credit for a grand entrance and trying to imagine the effect he'd have if he'd been a substitute teacher at James Ferguson Elementary School back in Highland. Her fellow students would have been frightened out of their wits before he even called roll. As it was, she felt uneasy herself.

A stray thought flitted in the back of her mind: _what did he look like when he was a kid?_ She let it flitter away without noticing it.

Professor Snape walked around behind the teacher's desk and let his gaze pass slowly over the first-years. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he said in a low, threatening monotone. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, snaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you weren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Daria smirked. Professor Snape might be a potions-master, but he'd never dealt with the sheer quantity of dunderheads she'd gotten used to at Pa Ferguson Elementary School back in Highland.

He then began taking roll. Daria watched his facial expression and listened to his tone of voice as he called out the names to see if she could tell what he thought of his likely pupils. To her surprise he played it straight when he read the roll. If he was biased towards Slytherin, he wasn't showing it, at least not yet. He read her name without comment, unless raising his eyebrow meant something when she said "Here, Sir" meant something.

After reading roll, Professor Snape let his gaze roam around the classroom. He did not look impressed with his pupils. Daria briefly wondered what sort of pupils would impress him, then set that thought aside when she realized that she probably wouldn't be one of them.

"So," he said. "Let me ascertain which of you dunderheads has bothered to do the readings for this class?"

His eyes ranged over the jittering first-years, then his hand extended and pointed.

"You, Darling," he said, speaking the girl's name in a sarcastic tone of voice. Daria turned her head in Darling's direction and saw a very nervous Slytherin girl. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"I don't know, Sir," said Darling.

"Too bad, Darling," said Professor Snape. "Clearly celebrity isn't everything."

_Geez_, thought Daria, _what did she do to honk him off?_

His head towards another member of the class. "You, Sanderson," he said. "Perhaps you know?"

"I don't know, Sir," said Sanderson. Daria had mixed feelings about Professor Snape giving Sanderson grief. On the one hand, she thought he was bullying him. On the other, Sanderson was a jerk who had it coming.

Several students had had their hands in the air. Snape's finger extended and he said "Perhaps you do?"

Daria looked over and saw that Dahlia was in the hot seat.

"Yes, Sir," said Dahlia. "Asphodel and wormwood make a potion so powerful that it's called the Draught of Living Death."

_Yes_, thought Daria. _You go, girl!_

Daria noticed that her loathsome cousins and their sidekick had decided to gossip instead of pay attention. So did Professor Snape. "Le Noir," he said. "What is the difference between wolfsbane and monkswood?"

Le Noir looked terrified. Daria decided that she didn't want to be in her position after class.

"I don't know, Sir," she said.

_That'll teach you to leave the heavy lifting to menials_, thought Daria.

Professor Snape's finger pointed again, this time at young Coombs.

"Perhaps you know, Mr. Coombs," he said with a hint of exasperation.

"There is no difference, Sir," said young Coombs. "They're the same thing."

Professor Snape made a satisfied half-smile. Somebody was at least trying to meet minimal standards for his class.

"Bennett," he said, pointing to another Slytherin. "What is another name for wolfsbane?"

"Aconite," Bennet promptly replied.

_Oho_, thought Daria. _Another whiz kid_.

Professor Snape gave a slight nod, then looked down at his seating chart. He looked up and pointed his finger at Daria.

"You, Morgendorffer," he said.

_Eeep_, Daria said to herself.

"Where would you look to find a bezoar?"

That one she knew. "Inside a goat," she replied. "Bezoars are stones from a goat's stomach."

There were titters at Daria's answer, less because of its tone than because of Daria's Texas accent. She'd pronounced it bee-zore, the way she'd heard her neighbors used.

"Bezoar," Professor Snape corrected, accenting the first syllable.

"_Shit,"_ thought Daria. "_He_ IS _a hard case_."

"And what are they used for?" asked Professor Snape.

"Bezoars, properly treated, are an antidote to most magical poisons," said Daria.

"Well," said Professor Snape, surveying his class, "it seems like you might show some promise after all." He sounded doubtful. "For your information, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the draught of living death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. Monkswood and wolfsbane are the same thing—aconite."

His eye drifted over to the Slytherin side of the classroom. "Miss Barksdale," he said, frowning. "Why aren't you paying attention? Three points and detention."

_Oh, my_, thought Daria, _my hoity-toity relatives are in the soup_.

Professor Snape then drew his wand, walked over to the chalk-board, and waved his wand at it. Words and instructions then appeared on what had been a blank blackboard.

"For this first class, you will be making a simple potion to treat boils," he said. "You will work in pairs. If you have not already chosen a partner, I will assign you one. You will gather your supplies and prepare your work areas starting—_**now**_!"

There was a rush of activity as Daria's classmates turned and chose lab partners. Daria was an odd girl out. She briefly wondered if she'd have to work with a Slytherin or one of the guys, then noticed that Tabitha Rolle also stood alone and bewildered.

"Hey, Tabitha," said Daria. "Do you want to work with me?"

"Sure thing," the Bahamian girl replied, trying to show more confidence than she felt.

"Let's do this," said Daria. Together, the two girls walked towards the ingredients cabinet, grabbed containers, and started gathering ingredients.

Daria glanced at the blackboard and frowned. Professor Snape's arrangement was asking for trouble. If she'd been allowed to organize this class, everybody would have been made to write down the ingredients, quantities, and directions on paper before they started, and only then set to work gathering the ingredients and preparing them for the potion.

It took them a while to get their ingredients: Daria and Tabitha were at the rear of the line. Still, Daria was relieved to see that there were still enough ingredients left to match the instructions on the board. They then walked to the area where Daria had dropped her cauldron and other potion-making gear before class started.

"How much experience do you have?" Daria asked Tabitha.

"Not that much," Tabitha replied. "My grandmother let me help make a couple of potions at home but she usually just let me do a little chopping and weighing. She didn't let me do the mixing and the stirring. And you?"

"I took a beginning potion-making class before I came here," Daria replied. "My mother insisted."

"But Marietta say your family was Muggle," Tabitha replied.

"Marietta never dealt with my mother," Daria replied. "That wouldn't stop her."

Tabitha smiled.

"So we'll chop and weigh. Then I'll add the ingredients, you stir, and I'll time," Daria added decisively.

They set to work. In about twenty minutes, they had most of the ingredients chopped, measured, and set to various spots in their work area.

Professor Snape drifted over while Tabitha was crushing the snake fangs, telling her that the fangs needed to be crushed more finely. Daria didn't like the way he said it. _ Couldn't he have been a little gentler about it_, she wondered. Tabitha looked rattled and Daria had to reassure her that she was doing fine. And she wasn't bad. Tabitha wasn't as good as the Aldrete sisters had been back in Highland, but then again, neither was she.

The spring water they'd poured in the cauldron reached a rolling boil. _Oops_, thought Daria. She turned down the burner. She briefly wondered if the Ph affected potion quality—Highland's tap-water was alkaline and mineral-laden, even excluding the traces of uranium that had made it into the town's water supply.

Before long they'd come to the point where they had to start mixing. Daria had been at a disastrous lab session where Joe Don Bollard had tossed porcupine quills into a cauldron while the heat was on, causing the cauldron to overflow and spill potion in all directions. Fortunately, it was one of those dry-run exercises her teachers in Highland had staged to remind their students that failing to follow instructions properly could be hazardous. No permanent harm was done, but it left an impression. Daria learned to be careful. When it came time to mix in the porcupine quills, she took the cauldron off the burner, then reminded Tabitha to mix the quills not all at once, but slowly. She gave a sigh of relief when that step was done. Tabitha stirred counterclockwise one more time than necessary, then she and Daria waited fifteen minutes until it was time to add the nettles.

They made their last stir about thirteen minutes before the end of class, then took the potion contents off the burner to cool. A couple of the other kids had already handed in their potion samples for grading. They were supposed to let it set for ten minutes and Daria worried that it would be too hot to take samples. Ten minutes later it was time to take samples. Daria and Tabitha used the time to mark phial labels and start clean-up. At the end of that time, Daria took a small potion-maker's ladle to dollop samples into two phials and together she and Tabitha walked to Professor Snape's desk with their work. Professor Snape took their phials, examined them visually, then marked something down on his parchment. From her side of his desk it looked like an "A." He then picked up his wand, pointed it at the cauldron's contents, and said "_Evascio_!" without comment.

Daria clenched her teeth. All that work for so little praise. She felt a wave of resentment as she and Tabitha turned away. She thought they'd done at least an adequate job and probably deserved more. In fact, she was hoping for some positive feedback but it looked like she and Tabitha were doomed to disappointment. Instead, Professor Snape gestured for them to move along, followed by a "Next" for the next pair of students.

She went back to her work station and began putting her gear away.

_Crap,_ she thought, then silently said several curse-words to herself.

Tabitha didn't look so good either and Daria realized that she needed to do something.

"Rolle," she said.

"What?" Rolle replied irritably. Daria had been short with her several times.

"If I snapped at you a couple of times, I apologize," said Daria. "You did good."

Tabitha looked at Daria, making up her mind.

"Thanks," she said.

Daria gathered up her gear and staggered out of the classroom, feeling very much the worse for wear.

A Hufflepuff girl wearing a Prefect's badge was standing looking relaxed at the stair-case's first landing. Daria thought she remembered her name as Tonkawa, but she was sure that wasn't quite right.

"Hallo, you look like you had a rough morning," she said.

"Yeah," said Daria. "My first potions class with Professor Snape."

"You had a rough morning, luv," said the prefect.

"So how did you do?" asked the girl.

"I think we got an "A,"" said Daria. "We didn't mess up or burn down the lab."

"I think I would have heard of that if you had," said the Prefect. "Still, an A isn't bad for a firstie, especially if it's your first class."


	32. First Saturday

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Saturday

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise and neither seek nor deserve any financial recompense for this work of fan-fiction (Although head-pats and "Atta boys!" are good compensation)

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Daria had no classes on Saturday and on this particular Saturday she had no plans, save to go to the library or work on a couple of essays she'd been assigned as homework.

Her plans were disrupted almost as soon as the Sun rose. Dahlia and Majda were both early-risers and Daria realized that she'd lost the battle to stay asleep shortly afterwards. She yawned, stretched her arms, then drew back her poster-bed's curtains.

"Good morning, Daria," said Dahlia. _How anyone could be awake at such ungodly hours_, thought Daria.

"Good morning," Daria replied grumpily. She got out of bed, put on her bathrobe, then headed for the bathroom. This being Saturday, there wasn't the usual crush of girls waiting to bathe and adjust their toilette: some were still sleeping in, others kept ungodly morning hours. After showering and then washing her hair, she began to feel civilized. Sleepy and hungry, but still civilized.

She then returned to her room, dropping the damp bath towel and picking up a comb and a hand-mirror. She put her comb and mirror on her bed to see what the weather was like. She glanced out the window and saw the green lawn leading to the edge of the forest. In Texas the summer heat and the usual dry weather would have scorched the green grass to browns and yellows. It was still a jolt to remember that it was only early September. She pulled out the clothes she was going to wear, got dressed and set off for the Great Hall and breakfast.

She didn't go directly to the Great Hall. Instead, she made a detour through one of the Castle's side doors to see what the morning's temperature was like. She learned that it was cool, almost, but not quite chilly. In Highland she'd still be roasting: the summer heat persisted not only into September but well into October, too. Now having a notion about what the Great Outdoors were like, Daria headed for the Great Hall and Breakfast.

The Great Hall continued to awe Daria. It was like dining in the middle of a great cathedral, although the roof seemed to open to the sky and the stained-glass windows depicted wizards and witches and their feats and the states were of important wizards and witches from times long gone by.

Despite the fact that she was still young and relatively trim, Daria did make healthier food choices—at least when someone else did the cooking and food preparation. Since her arrival in Scotland, she'd turned away from the classic American breakfast of milk, cereal and orange juice towards yogurt, fruit, and toast.

The yogurt was different. The most obvious visible difference was that it didn't come in plastic containers. Instead, she had to ladle it out of a serving bowl with a large spoon. It was also whole-milk and lacked any flavoring. Daria saw some berries on a serving-plate and added them to her bowl.

"I see that at least one of you fledglings has chosen a healthier diet," said a Hufflepuff sharing their table that morning.

Daria replied by smiling at the Puff and saying "Whatever."

"So what are your plans for today, Daria?" said Violet.

"Study, I think," said Daria. "I'm not as long along in my class reading as I'd like. I also want to start work on a couple of those essays we'd been assigned."

"We're planning to follow the great lawn down to the Dark Lake," said Dahlia.

"Sounds nice," Daria said wistfully.

"What we're thinking of is doing some study en pleine aire and then perhaps have a picnic lunch afterwards," said Violet. "I'd like to enjoy the good weather before it turns cold."

Daria pursed her lips. That did sound nice. She hadn't really explored the school grounds but she'd already learned that they were much, much nicer than the parched grass and chain link-fenced fence she'd known back at James Ferguson Elementary School back in Highland. _And if this doesn't work out I think I can get back under cover before I get soaked,_ she thought.

"I'm game," she said.

"We'll get together at the head of the stairs in the Common Room around 11:30, pick up our supplies in the Great Hall, and be on our way," said Violet with the authority of someone who'd done this before.

_A picnic_, thought Daria. _Cool_.

A screech interrupted her thought. Daria looked up, saw some owls flying in, and wondered who got mail. _Most likely kids from magical families_, she thought. Mundie parents, especially the parents of first- and second-year students, preferred to use mail drops.

An owl with a letter in its beak walked up to the table and looked at Daria. Her eyes widened when she saw the handwriting. It was her Dad's. "I gather you're a postal owl," she said. She wondered how the letter got sent; she was certain that her Dad didn't own an owl and even more certain that he wouldn't send it across the Atlantic. The Owl looked at her, chirped, then raised its left leg.

Daria was not in the habit of carrying spare change in her pocket and had to borrow some knuts from Violet to pay for postage.

After paying the owl, Daria watched the bird take off, opened her note, and began to read it

"_Hi, Kiddo!"_

"_I want you to know that your Mom and I made it back to Highland alive and well. We both had a great time and we're both sorry that your Mom wasn't able to join us before you had to leave for school._

"_It's still hot out here. I can't wait until the temperatures drop below the nineties._

"_It's not the same around here without you. Both of your sisters miss you. Ronnie asks when you're coming back and I have to keep reminding her that you won't be back until June._

"_I haven't run into too many of your school mates, but Mona Abrams, the girl from Temple, says hello."_

"_I hope you're doing well and making friends and learning lots of new things._

"_Love,_

_Your Dad."_

Daria's eyes teared as she finished reading her Dad's note.

There were two other pages. One was a short note from Quinn telling her that she was all right and hoping that she was enjoying school. It struck Daria as a little too pro-forma.

The other was from Ronnie. It was in Quinn's handwriting: Ronnie had yet to learn to write. Ronnie said that she missed her terribly and looked forward to her coming home.

"So who wrote you, Daria?" asked Anahita.

"My Dad and my sisters," said Daria. "I suspect that there's a letter from Mom somewhere in the pipeline."

"Are they Muggles?" asked Anahita. Anahita came from a magical family.

"My Dad and my sisters are," Daria replied. "My Mom's what they call a Wild Squib in the US. If she'd had a bit more, I suspect my grandfather and grandfather might have sent her to Ilvermorny."

"What's a Wild Squib?" asked Anahita. "I never heard that term before."

"A Wild Squib is a much like a Squib from wizarding families, except they both had Muggle parents."

"Did your family ever have any wizards or witches?" asked Anahita.

"Well," said Daria, glancing over at the Slytherin table and her distant Barksdale cousins, "it certainly looks that way, although I think they'd sooner die than admit it." Anahita and the Banks sisters grinned in response.

The girls returned to their dorm rooms after breakfast. Daria decided that she'd play catch up for her Charms reading and pulled out some notebook paper and a couple of her ballpoint pens. Young Hogwarts witches and wizards were expected to take notes using quills and parchment in class and in study hall, but this year's Prefects were more relaxed about writing materials—at least if it was used for note-taking within Ravenclaw Tower. She cracked open her textbook and began reading and taking notes. Her reading went more slowly than it would have back in Highland—there were a lot of unfamiliar terms and new concepts and Daria was still unsure as to how it all got put together.

_There's got to be a better way to organize my information_, she told herself. She remembered her Mom talking about her college days and file cards. She'd have to ask about that either over the Christmas holidays or when she returned home to Highland for summer vacation.

She plugged away for an hour and a half on charms theory. She then took a break, leaving her chair and stretching, careful not to jostle a Third Year who was deep into what looked like a Seventeenth Century work on Transfiguration. She thought there'd be a lot of Saturday morning slackers, but there weren't; the commons room was about a quarter full.

She returned to her reading and took more notes. Reaching the end of her assigned reading, she closed her textbook and straightened her notes. She pulled out her pocket watch to check the time. She'd had the surface so that the back of the watch showed its current ownership, but to Mundie eyes it still looked like it was still engraved with Robert MacDonald's name on it. There was a Robert MacDonald in her year, a Ravenclaw like her: he was engrossed in his own homework.

She descended the stairs to her dorm room, shelved her Charms book, opened her bureau, and placed her notes inside. She knew she'd be reviewing them for her end-of-term and end-of-year exams, then wondered if she'd need them again for her OWLS and NEWTs. She suspected that she would, even though both tests were literally years away.

She picked up her Transfiguration textbook and started reading. She got so engrossed in her reading that she jumped when Violet knocked on the corner of her four-poster bed.

"Daria, we need to get ready to go if we want to go on that picnic," she said.

"Oh," said Daria, blushing. She'd lost track of the time again. She put aside her Transfiguration text for later and picked up her copy of _A History of Magic_. "All right, then."

Anahita came in, dropped off her notes ((Neatly written on parchment), and picked up her picnic reading. Together, all three girls ascended the stairs to wait for Violet. Violet emerged a few minutes later with an old-fashioned picnic basket with a corner of a blanket sticking out of it.

A stop by the Great Hall, the house elves laying out supplies that Violet and Dahlia packed into their basket, and the girls were ready for their picnic. They left through a side door, following the steps down to a side path leading to the shores of the long lake. Daria saw that hey weren't the only students who'd decided to enjoy the lingering warmth. There were a couple of other groups of picnickers enjoying the vista and the afternoon sun, as well as lone wolves sitting and lying down and either sunning, reading, or in couple of cases sketching.

Violet found a spot about fifty feet from the water's edge and set down her basket. "This looks good," she announced. They didn't break out their meal immediately. The girls had come to a quiet consensus that this was a "working" picnic, and the first part was spent reading and quietly talking, usually about school work. It might almost have been a Mundie afternoon save for one major difference: Daria could see that several students had taken out their brooms and were either flying over the school grounds or out over the lake.

Daria dove into her copy of _A History of Magic_ and began to catch up on her reading.

A boy walked along the edge of the lake with a gear bag, then set it down. She paid him no mind until Dahlia spoke up and said "What is that boy doing?" Daria looked over at the edge of the lake and realized that it was Cuthbert. _He must have been sprung from St. Mungo's_, she thought happily. She watched as Cuthbert reached into his bag and pulled out a mask and snorkel, then started peel out of his school clothes, revealing loud tropical-print swim trunks.

"I think we're about to see Cuthbert Fink-Nottle in his element," Daria.

"So what is he doing?" said Violet.

"I think he's about to start looking at fish," said Daria. "Cuthbert's a hard-core ichthyologist."

"A what?" said Anahita.

"Something like a bird-watcher, except that Cuthbert's into fish instead of birds," said Daria.

Cuthbert reached into his gear bag and pulled out a small sack. He put his hand into it and threw the contents out into the water.

_Chumming the fish_, thought Daria.

"Cuthbert Fink-Nottle," said Dahlia. "That's the boy you went to school with in Texas, isn't it?"

"The very same," Daria replied.

"So what is he doing now?" said Violet.

"I think he's chumming the fish," said Daria.

"Ah," said Violet.

_Violet must know a little bit about fishing_, thought Daria. She began to rise to her feet. "Excuse me," she said. She walked to the just off the water's edge but held off saying anything. She knew that sound traveled as well in the water as in the air and didn't want to scare away Cuthbert's fish. She watched in amusement as Cuthbert studied the fish he'd chummed.

Curious, she got up and walked over to get a better look. Cuthbert looked up and Daria could see the big grin he was wearing.

"Oh, hello, Daria," he said.

"Find anything?" she said.

"Brown trout, some smelt," said Cuthbert. "No eels or salmon. Not this time anyway." He looked a little disappointed.

Daria didn't know very much about marine life in fresh or salty Scottish waters. "Keep looking," she said.

An older boy walked down to where Daria and Cuthbert were talking.

"Fishing, are you?" he said.

"I'm not fishing, I'm observing," Cuthbert replied.

"Well, you might want to talk to Hagrid or Professor Kettleburn before you put a hook and line into the Dark Lake," said the older boy. "You don't want to catch a mermaid or the Giant Squid." He laughed at his own wit.

Both Daria and Cuthbert rewarded him with scowls.

"Is he serious about the mermaids?" Cuthbert asked Daria in a low voice.

"He might be," said Daria. "I have heard about the Giant Squid from other sources."

"Really?" said Cuthbert. He looked thoughtful. "So who is Professor Kettleburn?" he asked.

"He's the Professor who teaches the Care of Magical Creatures class," said Daria.

-(((O-O)))—

Cuthbert didn't let the older boy's warning deter him from giving up his observations. Instead her turned around to see what he could see. Ahahita and the Banks sisters shared Daria's amusement as Cuthbert snorkeled around the shoreline. Eventually, though, he gave up and then stepped out of the water to slipped away to find someplace discreet to take off his swim trunks and put his uniform back on. By that point, Daria and her friends had put aside their books and were eating lunch al fresco.

Later, after dinner in the Great Hall, they retired to their Tower. Dahlia pulled out a deck of cards and said "Is anyone up for cards? I'd love to play Exploding Snap."


	33. Second Week

_Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl_. Her Second Week

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is owned by MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither property. I am writing for my amusement, not for profit, and neither expect nor deserve any financial reward for this work of fiction.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of The Owl

Daria's thought upon awakening on her second Sunday at Hogwarts was that it looked to be a repeat of the day before, howbeit with a chance of rain and probably without a picnic. She didn't have classes, she did have schoolwork, and she wanted to catch up on her reading.

Her plans changed at breakfast when she saw Charlie Weasley over at the Gryffindor table. She'd overheard older students saying that he was interested in magical creatures, particularly dragons. She'd also overheard that he was on good terms with Professor Kettleburn, the Professor in charge of The Care of Magical Creatures course. She'd learned that Hogwarts had a menagerie of larger magical creatures and was curious to see what they looked like in real life. _I wonder if he's going by the pens_, she thought. _If so, I wouldn't mind tagging along_.

It wasn't that she had any romantic ideas about him. After all, Charlie Weasley was seven years older than she was. And if he did have any creepy ideas she wanted to stay away from him. On the other hand, he was a Seventh-Year who could go places she couldn't safely go alone.

_Let's go for the big banana_, thought Daria. _The worst he can do is say no_.

"Can I help you, Miss Morgendorffer?" Charlie said whimsically.

"Are you going by the magical creature pens today?" asked Daria.

"As a matter of fact, I am," Charlie said with a chuckle. "Would you like to come along?"

"I certainly would," said Daria. "When and where should we meet?"

They set a time and place and at 10:30 Charlie Weasley was waiting by the side door along with a Gryffindor boy she vaguely remembered from the Sorting Ceremony.

"Daria, this is Ian MacCready," said Charlie. "He wants to visit Professor Kettleburn's paddocks, too."

"Cool," said Daria.

"Ian, this is Daria Morgendorffer," said Charlie. "She's American."

"Really?" said Ian. "Whereabouts?"

There were times like these that Daria wished her folks lived in Midland, Sweetwater, or even Abilene. Anything but Highland in front of a Scot.

"Texas," Daria replied.

"Really?" said Ian. "Do you know about cowboys?"

Daria sighed. There was going to be no escaping Texas stereotypes.

-(((O-O)))—

The Paddocks—Daria thought of them as corrals or pens—were some distance away from Hogwarts Castle. Not that she felt all that tired when she finally got there: the Castle was making her exercise far more than she ever had back in Highland.

Professor Kettleburn was a jovial man who loved his work and loved his animals. He greeted Charlie and was delighted to see that he'd brought a couple of curious first-years with him. Daria noted that one of his legs was artificial and that so was one of his arms.

He and Charlie showed Daria and Ian around the pens and tried to get Daria and Ian to approach a young Hippogryph. Daria balked, but Ian took up the dare coming within three feet before the Hyppogryph decided to nip Ian's hand. Fortunately, Charlie was right behind them and apparated back three feet before the bird could a bite.

Daria had a different attitude towards livestock than she'd had several years ago. She was no longer afraid of horses or cows. Hippogryphs were something else. She decided that she'd putt off revisiting them for another day.

A pen next to the Hyppogryphs drew Daria's attention. There were some unusual creatures in it: Dark, thin, leathery creatures that looked like a cross between a Pegasus and very slender dragons. Despite their scary appearance, they didn't make her so nervous.

Daria's curiosity got the better of her. "Excuse me, Professor," she asked, "what are those?"

"What are what?" said Ian, who was standing next to her. "I dinna see anything in that pen."

"Ah, you can see them, Miss Morgendorffer," said Professor Kettleburn, looking pleased.

"See what?" said Ian. "There's nothing in tha' pen."

"Leathery critters, dark, winged, look like a cross between a horse and skinny dragon," said Daria. "I can see them.

"There's nothing in that pen," Ian insisted.

"Yes, there are," said Daria. "If you look carefully over next to that trough, you can see some new footprints."

"I canna," said Ian.

Daria looked quizzically at Professor Kettleburn. "He can't see them," said Professor Kettleburn.

"So those are," Daria began.

"Thestrals," Professor Kettleburn. "Only certain people can see them. You must be one of them."

"So why can I see them when other people can't, Sir?" said Daria.

"Well," Professor Kettleburn began. He looked at young Ian. The girl looked like she could handle the truth, but the boy seemed so very young.

"I'll tell you sometime."

-(((O-O)))-

Two days later, Daria was in study hall taking notes from her textbook on how practical application related to charms theory. She was distracted by the sound of two men's voices. One of them being the unmistakable voice of Professor Snape, the other someone else, someone with what Daria had already learned was a "posh" accent. Curious, she looked up to see that Professor Snape was escorting some wizarding VIP around the library.

The VIP was a very handsome man: tall, pale-skinned, long blond hair, with an aristocratic air about him. His clothing emphasized the effect: a beautiful tailored outfit with serpent motifs cut in the wizarding style. He carried a walking stick with a silver snake-head handle. The wizard also had an air of self-assurance that her dad never could hope for even on his best day. She looked him over, wondering who he was. The VIP saw her looking at him and smiled in amusement.

Caught. _Oops_.

"Working hard, I see," said the VIP.

"Yes, sir," said Daria. Her American accent seemed to surprise him. He looked amused.

"You wouldn't happen to be a Barksdale, would you?" asked the VIP.

Daria felt irritated by wizarding condescension but realized this guy was Old Family. She didn't like it when the kids did it, but he was a big shot. Worse, he was a big shot with Professor Snape in tow.

"Yes, sir," she replied, "On my mother's side."

"I see," said the VIP. He looked amused for some reason Daria didn't know. "Well then, carry on."

Daria glanced over at Professor Snape and saw him give her a disapproving frown that foretold words after potions class. She turned her attention back to her textbook and resumed reading.

-(((O-O)))-

The following day, Daria finally got a look at the famous Giant Squid that inhabited the Dark Lake. By chance, Cuthbert was by the lake's shore chumming the fish. They watched in amazement as the creature's mouth and tentacles breached the surface, causing small ripples to flow towards the shore and the deeper parts of the lake.

Something was off about the Squid. Unlike the illustrations she'd seen of squids in encyclopedias, this Squid had a shell: one that curled around itself like fossils of sea creatures that Daria had thought had died off tens of millions of years ago.

Daria stared at the creature, then glanced at Cuthbert. He was as boggled as she was and stared at the Giant Squid in amazement. A suspicion formed in Daria's brain, but she decided that she wanted confirmation of her year's expert icthyologist.

"That's not a Squid, is it?" she said.

For once Cuthbert's answer was short and to the point.

"No, it's not," he said.

-(((O-O)))—

Daria survived her next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. She had less problem with the Professor's dialect. MacRae's accent was still as thick as it was before but after another week of listening to the Scots on campus, she understood more of what he was saying. After lunch, Daria returned to her dorm room, dropped off her textbooks and put on the Mad Dog's scarf. It was time for her second flying lesson. She followed Dahlia and Anahita as they descended from the tower to the field, her heart beating with apprehension.

Dahlia tried to reassure her. "There's nothing wrong with being a little afraid after what happened to you last time."

"I'm a little afraid, but not too much," said Daria.

_OK, more than a little_, she told herself. _My palms usually aren't this sweaty._

Daria's presence on the field was noted by the Barksdale girls.

"Oooh, look, Callista," said Livia. "It's the new Ravenclaw chaser!"

"She's just the sort of girl the Claws would put on their team," said Callista. "Put her on a broom and she'll just fall off!" Both girls laughed nastily at Callista's witticism.

Daria gave them a brief scowl, then turned her head away. She'd expected no less from those two but she didn't like it. _Well, you knew you were going to get this sort of crap_, she told herself.

Marietta Edgecombe gave Daria a look of disapproval. _She probably thinks I'm going to crash again_, she thought._ Well, screw her._

To her relief, the Handley girl wasn't teaching class today. Instead, it was Madam Hooch herself. Madam Hooch took roll, then looked at Daria.

"Morgendorffer," said Madam Hooch. I'm told that you had an accident last week."

"I did," said Daria. "I had a defective broom and I bailed."

"And what was the matter with it?" said Madam Hooch.

"Ma'am, that broom was not responding to my input," said Daria. "I leaned forward to descend and the broom kept rising instead of lowering. I decided not to take a risk and bailed rather than ascend to an altitude where I risked death or getting really hurt."

Madam Hooch stared at her for a long time. Daria stared back at her. _That's what happened, Coach_, she said silently, _and you can believe it or not_.

"So how far off the ground were you when you let go of your broom?" said Madam Hooch. said Daria.

"I was about sixteen feet up when I did a barrel roll, slid off the handle, then let go," said Daria. "I dropped about four meters onto muddy soil."

"Did you plan it this way?" asked Madam Hooch.

"Yes, Ma'am," said Daria. "There are old pilots and there are bold pilots, but there are no old bold pilots."

Madam Hooch snorted in amusement.

"All right," she said, then turned her attention to the rest of the class. "I'm going to assume that the rest of you are no better than Miss Morgendorffer here." The apt and more experienced flyers shot Daria dirty looks.

"So, when I blow the whistle, I want each of you to first mount your brooms, then rise two feet off the ground, then hover."

Madam Hooch blew her whistle. _Here goes_, thought Daria. "Up!" she said, and the broom rose into her hand. She then mounted it. Remembering her lesson from the week before, she kicked off the ground, then hovered like she was supposed to.

Madam Hooch walked around the flight line of hovering students, nodding with approval. "Very good," said Madam Hooch. "Now let's see you descend."

Daria angled the front of her broom downwards. It descended harder than she'd hoped.

"Oops," she said.

"That's all right, Morgendorffer," said Madam Hooch. "You'll get better with practice."

She did. At the end of the second lesson, Daria walked away from her flying lesson with a smile on her face.

"Very good," said Cho Chang, giving her a thumbs-up. Daria looked at her and wondered how Cho knew that gesture. Was a thumbs-up common in the wizarding world or had Cho learned it from some Mundie aviators somewhere? Daria wouldn't have been surprised if it was the latter. Unlike her friend Marietta, Cho wasn't afraid of learning new things from the wider world.

-(((O-O)))—

Potion-Making was on Thursdays, and so was a likely confrontation with Professor Snape. Daria had warned Tabitha that there might be trouble, although Tabitha told her that she was worrying too much.

_Well, I did what I could_, thought Daria. She'd warned Tabitha, she'd prepared her assignments, and her gear was ready to go. So was one of the extra papers she'd brought from Texas. She walked apprehensively into potions class that Thursday and sat down at the station she and Tabitha had claimed the week before.

If Professor Snape was going to have words with her, it looked like he'd save them for after class. He gave a brief talk about the potion they'd be brewing in this class, used his wand to make the chalkboard show the directions, and set them to work. She and Tabitha went to work: both girls chopping, with her stirring and Tabitha timing. At the end of the class they had what Daria thought was probably an acceptable potion ready to take up front for grading. She followed Tabitha, her grip firm on her vial and her teeth clenched. Professor Snape took her vial, frowned, then vanished the contents of her cauldron. To her surprise, he'd given both of them an "E"; Daria had learned that was the Hogwarts version of a "B." He waved Tabitha away, then said "Morgendorffer, stay behind."

Daria stepped over to one side and waited to see if what shoe would drop.

Her loathsome Barksdale cousins came up to have their potions graded, saw her standing to one side, then decided to linger themselves. _No doubt to see the American upstart smacked down_, Daria thought sourly.

Eventually, the rest of the class left the classroom, leaving Daria, Professor Snape, and the two Barksdale cousins behind. Professor Snape turned his attention from potions to Daria. "Morgendorffer, what was this nonsense you said the other day about your mother being a Barksdale?" he said.

"Sir, my Mom's maiden name _was_ Barksdale," said Daria. "We just don't happen to be magical, or we weren't until I came along."

Livia Barksdale grinned, anticipating Daria's humiliation.

"Morgendorffer, I hope for your sake that this isn't some fairy tale you've made up out of the whole cloth to cover up your provincial background," said Professor Snape.

"It isn't, Sir," said Daria. "I brought documentation if you wish to see it." She put her hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out the spare copy of her birth certificate.

Professor Snape read Daria's birth certificate expressionlessly, then wordlessly handed it back to her.

Daria didn't know Professor Snape all that well but she must have scored a point or two because he didn't immediately smack her down for her response.

"Morgendorffer, for future reference, mind what you say," said Professor Snape.

_Well, duh_, thought Daria quietly. She'd learned that lesson with some of her public school teachers and some of the people in the Principal's office back in Highland.

She decided to channel her inner Wodehouse. "Of course, sir," she said.

Professor Snape waved her away.

Livia Barksdale watched the drama play out, waiting expectantly for Professor Snape to smack down the American upstart for her impertinence. Her face fell as she saw Professor Snape accept the American girl's paper as positive proof of her claim. _Barksdale,_ she seethed, _the_ nerve _of that chit_. She saw the American girl walk away and looked daggers at her back.

That wasn't right. That girl _couldn't_ be a Barksdale!

-(((O-O)))-

There was a staff meeting just before dinner that evening. The topic for this meeting was how well the new students were adapting and if there were any problems with older students.

Are there any problems with our new first-years?" asked the Headmaster.

"Most of my first-years are settling in nicely," said Professor McGonagall.

"As are my badgers," said Professor Sprout.

"I have some wonderful students this year! A couple of them show exceptional talent!" enthused Professor Flitwick.

"Mine seem to be adapting nicely," said Professor Snape.

"Very good then," said Professor Dumbledore.

"Albus, I do have a question about one of our new students," said Professor McGonagall. "The American girl, Miss Morgendorffer. I'm surprised that she's here instead of at Ilvermorny or one of the American schools."

"She's here by right and by request of one of the old families," said Professor Dumbledore.

_Some well-situated wizarding family_, thought Severus. _Most likely Pureblood, either status pure blood or possibly a member of one of the Old Families_. He wondered about Morgendorffer's ancestry. Despite the two first-year Barksdale girls' denials, it was clear that the girl came from yet another offshoot of the Barksdale family tree. _One they didn't like to talk about_, he thought with amusement.

Moreover, she was no fool. He'd been amused by her response to his challenge. Instead of giving into childish histrionics, the girl produced documentation: a copy of her birth certificate.

"Did you find anything irregular regarding her admittance?" said Professor Dumbledore.

"She was on the rolls for new students when the admittance letters were sent out," Professor McGonagall conceded.

"Is she causing any problems?" asked Albus.

"Not with any of my students," said Professor McGonagall.

"A couple of my first-years object to Miss Morgendorffer's presence, but I have no problems with her," said Professor Snape.

"If she's the only cause for concern, I suspect that we'll do well with our first-years," said Professor Dumbledore.

"Now, moving on to our older students…" said Professor Dumbledore.

"_Would that we were so lucky as we were with the Firsties,"_ thought Professor Vector, thinking of the Weasley Twins and other older trouble-makers.

-(((O-O)))—

Author's notes: My apologies for the long delays in updating. I do not have home internet and I used to make do with uploading from hot spots at public libraries and other public spaces. The COVID virus has played Hob with my updating my stories here, since most of my hot spots shut down and are currently inaccessible. I will update as I can, but it may take me a while to post the next chapter.


	34. Hogwarts Autumn: Part One

DAR Owlyear Hogwarts Autumn

DISCLAIMER: _Daria_ is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise and neither expect nor deserve any financial gain for this work of fiction. However, positive reviews and helpful comments would be appreciated. 

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl 

Gradually, life at Hogwarts began to acquire a rhythm. Herbology on Monday followed by electives and study hall, Charms and Transfiguration on Tuesday, Defense Against the Dark Arts on Wednesday followed by flying lessons in the afternoon, and the dreaded Potions class on Thursdays. She relaxed a little with her dorm mates on the weekends, sometimes visiting the magical creature pens, sometimes not, but also used much of the rest of her time for study.

Daria's attitude towards magic was slowly changing. In the months before she entered Hogwarts, Daria saw magic as a dangerous, complicated part of herself that she desperately needed to learn to control so she could get on with the rest of her life. But as the days passed, her indifference was gradually replaced by curiosity. True, she still wanted to go to college, but she realized that as far as the academic world was concerned, she was a jumped-up seventh-grader and she had years to go before she had to worry about college entrance exams and she still had plenty of time to indulge her fascination.

She was having difficulty with transformation: her mind was too closely linked to the material world in the here-and-now. She enjoyed charms. You could do interesting things with magic that you couldn't do with electronics or power tools.

The magical creatures were fascinating, as were many of the plants, even if Daria doubted many of the latter could survive the typical aridity and brutal heat of a South Plains summer. Daria chalked it up to Britain's being an island-sized terrarium.

As the weeks passed Daria realized that she missed her family and her Highland friends. She missed her parents and her sisters, especially her Dad and the June Bug. She also missed her friends and regretted her break with Farrah. It wasn't worth snapping her wand and returning to Texas, but she missed her anyway.

She still kept in touch with her family, howbeit tenuously. Her parents, usually her Dad, wrote her at least twice a week. Mom was more erratic, and sometimes only wrote once a week. She wrote home with the same frequency. She usually tried to write long letters, but when she was pressed for time, her letters tended to be short post-card like messages.

She put down her latest letter from home: this one from her mother. Her Mom told her that several people had remarked on Daria's absence from Billy Sol Estes Middle School and wondered where she was and how she was doing. Her Mother said that she'd told them that she was attending the Howard School in Scotland and that she was working hard. It wasn't exactly true, but it was easier than saying that she was in Scotland learning magic and witchcraft.

Her Mom also told her that she'd run into Mrs. Aldrete at the United Grocery and that Mrs. Aldrete had told her that the Crazy Twins were enjoying their school down in Campeche. Daria smiled at the thought and wondered how the Crazy Twins would react to the Weasley brothers. The twins had asked their Mom to ask Daria to see if they could write each other. She hoped that they would and that they'd send pictures: it would be fun to see what their school looked like and it would be fund to see how Cuthbert would react if he saw their picture.

There were some other changes. Her flying was getting better. She told Majda that she wanted to get better and Majda asked her why. She told Majda the truth: aside from the fact that she'd already known that flying on brooms was something witches did, she wanted to get good enough to go on some of the Grand Canyon tours when she got older.

She was also gaining more confidence in her potion-making. In fact, she and Tabitha Rolle had acquired a nickname in class: the Colonials. So far the nickname was an in-house Ravenclaw thing, but Daria half-hoped that it would spread. 

Attack of the Genealogists Part One 

Late in September Daria was taking notes from a library book when she was interrupted by a female voice saying "Texas!". Daria looked up from her reading and saw one of the older Slytherin girls she'd made an acquaintance with in the aftermath of the Bloody Baron's rescuing her from Peeves. They'd seen each other around, but aside from Pichon, Daria hadn't learned the other girls' names.

"Yes?" said Daria.

"You're a Barksdale, aren't you?" she said.

"That I am," Daria replied, "unless you take the younger Barksdales' say-so."

The Slytherin girl laughed. "Little First-years don't necessarily know what's what," she replied. "But I'm not asking about them, I'm asking about you. I've got a genealogy-crazed aunt who's tracing our family tree and wanted to know if your grandfather named Ashworth Barksdale."

The question stunned Daria. Why would any hoity-toity pureblood be interested in her No-Maj grandfather? "As a matter of fact he was," she said.

"Ha!" the Slytherin girl replied.

"Why do you ask?" said Daria.

"One of my lateral ancestresses five generations back was a squib. She left the wizarding world, moved to America, and married a Muggle named Julian Barksdale. My aunt has been tracing Louisa Ashworth's descendants and was fascinated to learn that there was a certain Virginia Muggle named Ashworth Barksdale. She was equally fascinated to learn that there was Texas girl with a Barksdale mother who possesses magic."

"If it's my younger sister Quinn and you're asking about her magical skills, you're likely to be disappointed," said Daria.

"No, It concerns one Daria Lynn Morgendorffer, whom I believe is sitting next to me. She'd the only one of the lot currently attending Hogwarts."

"I don't think I've caught your name," said Daria.

"It's Lita," said the Slytherin girl. "Lita Ashworth."

"I'd like to keep your acquaintance," she said with a smile. "You're just full of surprises. I wonder how many more you'll spring on us."

The Slytherin girl—Lita—took off, leaving Daria to wonder about the Barksdale family tree and wonder if she had any more relatives here that she didn't know about. 

-(((O-O)))- 

A few days later Daria opened a letter from her mother. It was longer than usual: two pages. He mother told that she missed her, as did her Dad and her sisters. She also said that life was moving along and that she'd been getting more work from the Law Office. She also related a little bit about her other Barksdale relatives: Rita was dating a man who was into skydiving, Erin was a junior at a new boarding school, and Amy was working at Washington-area magazine.

She opened the second page of her letter, read several lines and said "Oh, shit."

Anahita's eyebrows went up. Daria had a salty vocabulary but seldom swore where a Professor or a Prefect could take off points. This must be very bad news.

"What is it, Daria?" said Anahita.

"Do you remember my telling you about my friend Laura Penrick back in Highland?" she said.

"The one with the Dagworth cousin?" said Anahita.

"Yes, her," said Daria. "Mom told me that Laura's cancer has come back and that she's in the hospital." 

-(((O-O)))-


	35. Hogwarts Autumn: Part Two

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Hogwarts Autumn Part Two

DISCLAIMER: _Daria_ is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise and neither expect nor deserve any sort of financial reward or profit for this work of fanfiction. I am writing for my own amusement.

Positive reviews are welcome, though.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

September eased into October. The effects were more noticeable: unlike Daria's part of Texas, the change from summer into autumn was no masquerade: the weather was definitely cooler. _So this is what a real autumn is like_, she thought. _So there's something to those old stories about New England after all_. She'd been through more than half a dozen Highland autumns, and there was little in common between a South Plains autumn and the drivel she'd seen in children's picture books.

Despite the continuing wonder and excitement of Hogwarts, Daria continued to worry about Laura Penrick's health. She sent Laura a letter and a couple of cards she'd obtained through the Weasley twins' growing black market. The youmg entrepreneurs had had the foresight to sound her out as well as other Muggle-born students as to the sorts of things that they'd be interested in buying. They'd already learned that Muggle students preferred to send non-magical notes and postcards to their non-magical friends and relatives. Daria had had to give them a lay-person's briefing as to the workings of non-magical postal systems: the Weasley brothers had been uncredulous that Muggle postal systems used postage stamps and charged for letter and package delivery by weight as well as distance. Still, she was able to send mail out by owl to a knowledgeable of-campus half-blood whose Mum then dropped off Daria's and other Muggle-raised students' letters at the nearest mail box.

During the second week of October, Daria got a letter from the Crazy Twins. The Aldrete sisters said that they had settled into student life at the Instituto and were enjoying themselves. They'd sent along a couple of photographs to emphasize the point: the photos were magical and Daria watched them smiling and giggling over and over as the photographs re played again and again and again. Their uniforms were different: unlike Hogwarts' under-uniforms, which were modeled after those of British boarding schools, female students at the Instituto wore very attractive outfits that looked like they were modeled on traditional Mexican folk costumes. Daria felt a brief pang of jealousy before deciding to make Cuthbert's day and show them what the Aldrete sisters were up to.

She got up and walked over to the Hufflepuff table. She quickly spotted Cuthbert, he was listening to an older student talking about some of the magical creatures he'd dealt with. Cuthbert looked fascinated for a bit, then his smile faded away and he lowered his eyebrows. Daria knew that look: Cuthbert had decided that someone was feeding him a line of BS. She decided that this was a good time to cut in.

"Hey, Cuthbert," she said.

"Hallo, Daria," Cuthbert.

"Can I borrow the wizarding world's Steve Zissou here?" she said. Steve Zissou was a famous oceanographer and film-maker who'd made a number of famous documentaries about marine life. One of the other Hufflepuffs grinned. _So not all wizards are disconnected from the big wide world_, she thought.

"So what's this about?" said Cuthbert.

"I heard from some friends of ours," said Daria. "I just got a letter by Owl-Post."

"Who are they?" said Cuthbert.

"The Aldrete sisters," Daria replied. "They're going to school at the Instituto down in southern Mexico. They sent pictures." She produced the snapshots and handed them to Cuthbert.

Cuthbert was fascinated. "Nice to see them waving at me," he said. He continued to stare at the twins' pictures. "It looks warmer down there," he added.

"It ought to," said Daria. "The Instituto is down in Campeche and it's not known for blizzards and ice storms. It's a lot like spring much of the year, then it gets real hot in the late spring and summer."

Cuthbert was so fascinated with the photos that he wasn't prepared for one of his tablemates snatching the cards out of his hand.

"Hey!" said Cuthbert.

"Give those back," growled Daria.

She might have had a harder time getting her pictures back if the boys and the Aldrete sisters were both a little older, but Daria got them back with a little help from an older Puff who glared at the first-years and said "Hand them over." He then handed the photos back to Daria.

"Those girls," said the older Hufflepuff. "They're both a lot browner than you are. Are they Indians or something?"

"They are darker," said Daria. "Most of the wizards and witches in my home town are of Mexican ancestry. I'm one of the odd ones that isn't. Cuthbert lived in Highland, Texas for a couple of years and he's also considered to be an honorary Highlander."

Cuthbert blushed in response.

"So why aren't you going to the same school as these girls?" asked the Puff.

"My Spanish is non-existent and I was invited to come here," said Daria.

"I see," said the Puff, who probably didn't.

Daria pocketed the photos and returned to her place to retrieve her schoolbooks and went on to her next class. Hufflepuff's gossip mill sprang into action and by the end of the second evening had saddled poor Cuthbert as being an aspiring ladies' man with not one but a host of admirers, including a certain prickly auburn-haired Ravenclaw and two mysterious young witches in Mexico.

-(((O-O)))-

A couple of days later, Daria was out by the front entry over by the Great Hall when she saw Argus Filch dragging in a protesting older man dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, sweater and trousers and loudly complaining about his treatment in an American accent.

"This is some sort of mistake, I tell you!" said the American. "I'm only taking pictures! This site is marked as an archaeological site on the maps and is part of one of your national parks!"

"You've got no right to be here!" Filch replied. "You're trespassin' on school grounds and you're a bloody spy for some Muggle speculator." Daria's eyes opened as she noticed the camera gear draped over Filch's neck and shoulders and then recognized Mr. Lane's voice.

"Mr. Lane, what the Hell are you doing here?" she asked.

"You, girl, do you recognize this Muggle?" said Filch.

"Yes, sir," Daria replied. _You don't deserve the "Sir" part_. "He's Vincent Lane, a professional photographer from Lawndale, Maryland. I've met him a couple of times."

"You're probably working with him," Filch replied. "Since you claim you know him, you're coming to the Headmaster's office with us."

Daria's first response was anger at Mr. Filch's accusation. Her second response was resignation and a little worry. She'd never met the headmaster and her previous experiences with principals back in Highland hadn't been good.

"This is fantastic!" said Mister Lane. "So what are you are you doing here?"

"Going to school," said Daria.

"This can't be a regular boarding school," said Mr. Lane. "What are they teaching?"

"Stuff," said Daria.

There was some traffic in the corridors. Most of it were students going to or coming out of classes. They stared curiously at Daria, Mr. Filch, and Mr. Lane. Mr. Lane definitely looked like he didn't belong here.

"So how did you get in?" said Mr. Lane. "Did you apply?"

"They admit by invitation only," Daria replied. "I got invited." By that time they'd reached the staircases.

"There sure are a lot of staircases around here," said Mr. Lane.

"They built this place before the ADA got passed and they decided not to retrofit," said Daria.

"You guys must get a workout just getting to classes," said Mr. Lane.

"I know," said Daria. "That's why we don't have regular PE classes."

The journey to the Headmaster's office was getting to Mr. Lane: he was getting winded: Daria could hear him panting. The trip was getting to Mr. Filch, too, she noted with satisfaction, although his response was to hand some of Mr. Lane's camera gear to her and tell her to carry it. After more trudging and Daria wondering whether Professor Sprout would get upset with her for missing Herbology, they reached the base of the staircase leading up to the Headmaster's office.

Mr. Filch gave the password and the trio rode the staircase up to Professor Dumbledore's office.

The staircase began spiraling upwards towards the Headmaster's office, Mr. Filch looking balefully at Daria and Mr. Lane, Daria glaring in irritation at Mr. Filch, and Mr. Lane finally catching his breath.

"Fascinating," said Mr. Lane. "It's like magic."

"Shut up," snarled Filch.

They soon reached the top of the staircase and the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office. Mr. Filch rapped on the door. The door opened and Daria, Mr. Filch, and Mr. Lane entered. Daria had never seen the Headmaster's office before. It was—impressive. There were devices that looked like Orreries set on tables in the front, screened cases holding mysterious objects and towards the headmaster's desk there were portraits of what Daria presumed were famous wizards and witches of years long gone by. In addition, there was the Sorting Hat and—could that be a phoenix.

And of course there was Professor Dumbledore. To Daria's dismay, the Headmaster was not alone. Professor McGonagall was with him.

"Ah, Argus, good morning! What brings you here?" said Professor Dumbledore.

"Professor, I found this man trespassing and spying on school grounds," said Mr. Filch. He pointed a finger at Daria. "And this girl here says she knows him. I think they're spying together."

"Well, Argus, let's sort this out," said Professor Dumbledore. "First, where did you find him?"

"I found him on the far side of school grounds, away from the gates and the road to Hogsmeade," said Mister Filch.

"And what was he doing there?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"Fooling around with his Muggle camera equipment and spying, I don't doubt," said Mister Filch.

"Taking photographs," Mister Lane interjected. "I was photographing pre-Christian Celtic monoliths and their contemporary surroundings."

"Well, I caught him there and I brought him in," said Filch. "I'm convinced that he's up to no good, skulking around."

"So how does this girl, Miss Morgendorffer is it, play into this?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"The girl said that she'd met him before," said Filch. "I say they're in it together."

"Is this true, Miss Morgendorffer?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"Is what true, Headmaster?" Daria.

"Do you know this man that Mr. Filch brought into my office," said Professor Dumbledore.

"Yes, sir, I've met him twice," said Daria. "The first time I met him was over three years ago in a grocery store in Lawndale, Maryland, where he lives."

"And the second time?" asked Professor McGongall.

"The second time I met Mr. Lane was at the El Fuerte National Monument in the state of Cibola," said Daria. "That was a bit over two years ago."

"What was he doing?" said Professor Dumbledore.

"He was a photographer," said Daria. "He was lugging around his camera gear. My Dad swapped some film with him."

"Did you say or do anything else?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"No, sir," said Daria. "He was going into the Monument, we were leaving. And that was the last time I saw him until Mr. Filch dragged him into the Castle."

"So were you photographing my students and my staff without permission?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"No," said Mr. Lane indignantly. "I'd barely crossed the fence when your guy jumped me," Mr. Lane said indignantly. "Besides, I don't do portraits. I do landscapes, architecture, and still-lifes. I do snapshots for friends and family but I don't do portrait photography."

"Did you see any of the buildings?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"Only in passing," said Mr. Lane. "That was after your man dragged me in here."

"So what do you think of the Howard School?" said Professor Dumbledore, using the decoy name used to befuddle Muggles.

"The architecture's fantastic, but it's too modern," said Mr. Lane, missing Professor McGonagall's bulging eyes and her silently mouthing _"too modern?"_ at his comment. "I'm photographing pre-Christian Celtic megaliths." said Mr. Lane. "This place is marked as an archaeological site on my map," he said accusingly. "What's this school doing here?"

Mr. Lane did catch Professor Dumbledore's smile at his comment. "It's been here for centuries," said Professor Dumbledore. "And you are on school grounds without permission, Mr. Lane."

"In regard to your question, there are a few Celtic megaliths just outside the castle, but you may find that the light is wrong for your photography this time of day," Professor Dumbledore said blandly, concealing any trace of guile from his voice. Daria remembered hearing that the Headmaster was a skilled legilemens. She wondered what the Headmaster was finding out about Mr. Lane's one-man photo expedition.

"Were there any other Megaliths nearby worth seeing?" said Mr. Lane.

"Not within walking distance of school grounds," said Professor Dumbledore. "I was told that there are some seldom-photographed megaliths on the Island of Lewis."

"I wanted to see those, but I couldn't make the ferry connections," said Mr. Lane.

"I think we can find someone who can help you find your way there," said Professor Dumbledore. Daria noticed the twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes and wondered what Professor Dumbledore had in mind for him.

"Mr. Filch, could you escort Mr. Lane down to the waiting area next to the Great Hall?" said Professor Dumbledore. "I'll have someone make a sack lunch for Mr. Lane and we can find someone from the department to send him on his way."

"Oh, and Mr. Lane," added Professor Dumbledore, "We ask you not to take any photographs on school grounds."

"And the girl?" said Mr. Filch.

"Miss Morgendorffer seems to be the sort of young woman who knows discretion," said Professor Dumbledore. "I trust her to keep Mr. Lane company until his escorts arrive."

"I don't," said Mr. Filch.

Daria was sufficiently offended by Mr. Filch's comment that she missed Professor McGonagall mouthing _"Albus, is this safe?"_ and Professor Dumbledore smiling and waving his hands in reassurance.

Filch walked them down to the ante-room, Daria using one arm to carry some of Mr. Lane's camera gear, leaving her wand hand free just in case. Filch opened the door and said "Go in." Someone had taken mercy on them and had provided a couple of wooden arm-chairs, both looking very Gothic.

"This is quite a school here," said Mr. Lane, who'd been busy ogling the surroundings.

"I think so," Daria replied.

"So what sort of stuff do they teach you?" asked Mr. Lane.

"Stuff off the standard curriculum," said Daria. "I suspect that if I ever go back to a regular school, I'm going to be doing a lot of catch-up work. Cramming pre-calculus is probably going to be a bear."

"So how long are you expected to attend here?" asked Mr. Lane.

"Seven years," said Daria. "That's assuming I last." She thought she would, but he didn't need to know that.

"And if you don't?" he said.

"I'll probably rejoin the conventional educational track," said Daria. "In any case, even if I finish my primary education at Highland High School, I don't think I'd have missed coming here for the world."

"So what brought you to this part of the Highlands?" asked Daria.

"Pre-Christian Megaliths," said Mr. Lane. I'd read and heard that there were a lot of them spread throughout the Highlands and the Isles, and I wanted to do a photo essay on how the pre-Christian peoples worshipped nature and how their monuments have become integrated into the landscapes over the centuries. I have a theory that a lot a lot of these Megaliths were placed in accordance with the seasons and the positions of the stars in the night sky and how they've continued to mark those dates even now."

_Whatever_, thought Daria. She knew from her reading that the Earth's axis slowly shifted over the aeons and that the stars themselves slowly moved, too. She was also pretty sure that the ancient Celts had other ideas about their religion but since Mr. Lane was a grown-up, she said nothing.

He went on to expound on popularized notions of what Muggle academics thought were Druidic practices, which Daria also knew weren't true, and her eyes slowly began to glaze over. She began to to think that maybe Professor Dumbledore had a point about setting him loose: Mr. Lane was caught in some sort of artistic tunnel-vision and as long as he was stuck there he could care less about the school buildings and its surroundings-all of which had been built since the Four Founders started Hogwarts in the late 900's.

"So what do you think, Daria?"

"Sir, in case you're wondering, I'm told that the Megaliths on the school grounds were moved from their original positions," she said. _There, that ought to help put a damper on his curiosity about Hogwarts Castle_.

"You don't say," said Mr. Lane. He frowned: a frown that Daria hoped would squash some of his curiosity about the school.

"I hope that the Professor is right and that you can get to the Isle of Lewis," she said.

"I'd sure like to go," he said.

"So what are you reading?" he asked.

"An Astronomy textbook," she said. Her textbook was a standard Muggle textbook about locating planets, their moons, and their positions in the sky. If Mr. Lane had any questions about what classes she was taking, she figured she could fend off mentioning magic for at least five minutes talking about astronomy.

Mr. Lane's response was to open one of his camera bags, pull out a camera lens and started cleaning it.

There was a knock on the door and a house-elf came in with lunch, served on plates with silverware. _Damn,_ thought Daria. _If Hogwarts had human servants, they could have continued to keep Mr. Lane in the dark. _The food was good: sandwiches with carrots and sliced cucumbers on the side. Daria hoped she got a chance to finish it.

"What are those?" asked Mr. Lane.

"House elves," said Daria. "They're part of the school staff." _Damnit._

"Just what do you teach around here?" asked Mr. Lane. Daria put down her book and surreptitiously picked up her wand. _This is a grade A foul-up_, she thought grimly. She wished she knew the Immobulus charm.

"I might tell you after lunch," she said, stalling for time. "I'm hungry."

There was a knock on the door and Andrew Brae walked in. _Thank God_. Daria hadn't had much to do with the Prefect since after she'd been settled into her room on her first day at school.

"Morgendorffer, keeping our visitor entertained?" said Brae.

"Hey, Brae," said Daria. "Care to join us for lunch?" she patted her skirt to show that she'd drawn her wand."

"Don't mind if I do," said Andrew.

"I've got a spare sandwich," said Daria. "They brought me far more than I can eat." She gestured at her plate.

Keeping an eye on the Muggle visitor, Andrew walked over and picked up the sandwich the American girl was eating.

"So what were you talking about?" he asked.

"Well, I told him we study stuff off the standard curriculum, that I'm likely to be here seven years if I graduate, and that if I return to my home town's secondary school, I'll have to do some catch-up work first. I also told him that the Megaliths on-campus got moved from where they were at least a century or so ago."

Brae was a half-blood whose father had chosen to become a teacher in the Muggle world, had gotten a teacher's certificate, and was currently teaching at a Comprehensive School in Carlyle, so he could appreciate the American girl's distraction. His Da would have put up with such vague answers; he'd have wanted more information, but this Muggle seemed to be accepting them.

"So I've heard the concept behind your photographic journey to this part of the Highlands," said Daria, "but Andrew hasn't. Maybe you can tell him about your idea and he could give you some pointers as to where to find some Megaliths afterwards."

"Well, as I was telling your young friend here, I wanted to do a photo essay on how the pre-Christian peoples worshipped nature and how their monuments have become integrated into the landscapes over the centuries," said Mr. Lane. "I have a theory that a lot a lot of these Megaliths were placed in accordance with the seasons and the positions of the stars in the night sky and how they've continued to mark those dates even now."

Daria wondered how much Brae knew about Scottish magical history. She was certain that he knew a lot more than she did. Some of the Scots were passionate cultural nationalists and made efforts to study their country's history. She wondered if Brae was in that group.

She watched Brae's facial expression change from discreet amusement to barely-concealed incredulity as Mr. Lane continued his exposition. She wondered if he was growing as bored as she was and if he, like she, was hoping that the Obliviators would soon arrive on campus and send Mr. Lane on his way.

There was another knock on the door, and three men in Auror's outfits walked in.

_The Cavalry has arrived,_ thought Daria.

"We're the Obliviators," said the taller one with the close-cropped gray hair. "So which guy is your visitor?"

"The older guy out of school uniform," said Daria, causing Brae to chuckle.

"The Headmaster said that you know him," said the head Obliviator. "Did you tell him anything about the school?"

"Only that the Megaliths had been moved around and that I was studying a non-standard curriculum," said Daria. "He hasn't taken any pictures, this place is a bust, and he'd really like to go see the megaliths on the Isle of Lewis." Go ahead, take the hint.

"Are you the prefect?" the head Obliviator asked Brae.

"I am," said Andrew Brae.

"How old is this girl?" asked the Obliviator.

"She's only a first year," Brae replied.

"If she's only a Firstie, that lass is going to be a holy terror when she gets older," said the Obliviator.

"You, Mister Lane, is it?" he said turning his attention to Mr. Lane.

"Yes," said Mr. Lane.

"So you want to see the megaliths on the Isle of Lewis, do you?" said the Obliviator.

"I'd really hoped to," said Mister Lane, "but I'm having trouble getting ferry connections and traveling there would bust my budget. You see, I am photographing pre-Christian megaliths and how they have become part of the landscape…"

"Do you have all of your camera gear?" he asked.

"Yes, I have everything," said Mister Lane. "My clothes are back at the Inn."

"Well, I think we can get you there," said the Obliviator. "You can share your vision with me on the way to the school gate."

Just before turning away, he said "Thanks for minding him. We'll see him off."

"You're welcome, Sir," said Brae. Brae looked at Daria, then said "Megaliths?"

"That's what he's into this trip," Daria replied. "You should have seen Professor McGonagall's expression when he said that the Castle was too modern."

-(((O-O)))—

The next day, Violet told Daria that Professor Snape was at St. Mungo's, the wizarding hospital. She didn't know the reason, just that she was there.

"So do you suppose that they'll cancel the Potions classes while he's in there" said Dahlia.

"I don't know," said Violet. "But if I were you, I'd assume that Professor Dumbledore will be able to find some witch or wizard to teach while Snape is out."

The news of Professor Snape's mysterious illness continued to circulate around the school. Most students were happy about it; Professor Snape was not a popular teacher. On the other hand, a number of students, particularly in Ravenclaw, were less than happy that they were going to miss some potion making.

That evening, Professor Dumbledore made an announcemtn at dinner: he'd found a substitute to teach classes for a couple of days until Professor Snape was able to resume his duties.

Daria entered Potions Class Thursday afternoon, wondering who'd be teaching in Snape's place. She took her seat, sat down, and discovered that the Headmaster had found somebody had found somebody: a frail-looking elderly wizard with long gray hair going down to his shoulders.

"Good afternoon," he said. "My name is Nicholas Flamel, and I will be teaching First Year Potions this afternoon. Now will you please open your textbooks to page 168, and we'll get started…

**-(((O-O)))—**

**Author's notes: Connie and Sarita Aldrete are OCs I created for my **_**Daria Ravenclaw**_** universe. Both are Latinas born of American parents. They grew up in the same town as Daria, then went their separate ways. They're also witches and attend the **Instituto para el Estudio de las Artes y Ciencias Ocultas, a non-HP canon magical school situated in the Campeche region of Mexico.

_**The Life Aquatic and Steve Zissou**_** was a movie released in 2004. I don't the rights to it either, but I thought it would be fun to set my Daria Ravenclaw stories in a universe where Steve Zissou was a real person.**

**Vincent Lane is a **_**Daria**_** canon character. He is the usually-absent father of Jane and Trent Lane.**


	36. Halloween at Hogwarts

_Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl._ Chapter 36: Halloween At Hogwarts

DISCLAIMER: _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. _Daria_ is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. I own neither franchise. I neither desire or expect any sort of financial compensation for this work of fiction; I am writing for my own amusement.

Positive reviews are always nice. Negative reviews are tolerated if the reviewer knows what he or she is talking about.

This chapter is rated "T" for language. Laura Penrick does not suffer fools gladly.

_Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl_*_Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl_*_Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl_

Daria and Tabitha went through Potions class much as they would have if Professor Snape had been teaching it. Still, Daria couldn't help but note the change of atmosphere. She wondered why so many of the Purebloods in the class seemed so awed by Professor Flamel. _Was Professor Flamel some sort of celebrity? Probably._ She was all too aware of her ignorance of the Wizarding world in general and the British wizarding world in particular. _Who was this guy_, she wondered. She itched to go do some research.

In the meantime, she and Tabitha had to brew a potion. Whatever claim Professor Flamel had to fame and glory, Daria decided that that wouldn't stop her from doing the best she could. The Potion was still challenging, but the stress wasn't there. Professor Flamel's approach was considerably gentler than Professor Snape's had been: he'd walk around the classroom, watch how each pair was doing, sometimes speaking words of encouragement, sometimes gently critiquing the potion teams' techniques. Daria found his approach relaxing. He didn't say much to either Daria or Tabitha except to say "Good, good. Carry on," but both she and Tabitha grinned as he walked away. She hadn't really felt this way since she'd been in Mrs. Ocampo's Potions classes back in Highland. When it came time to bring their samples up front for grading, Daria was pleased to see that both she and Tabitha had gotten Es for "Exceeds Expectations."

So who was Nicolas Flamel? After the last class of the day, Daria resolved to go to the library and look up her Potions teacher. Unfortunately, she was not alone: a lot of other kids from all four Houses had had the same idea and Daria was unable to do any useful research. She did hear bits and pieces—that he was centuries old, that he was a noted alchemist, and that he'd worked with Professor Dumbledore on several projects. That still didn't constitute an adequate biography in her book. She went to dinner feeling grumpy. Her mood dissipated somewhat late that evening during astronomy class: there was something about looking at the distant stars and planets that made her feel that her problems and frustrations weren't really all that important.

Friday passed much like it usually did. After dinner, the girls in her dorm room were familiar enough with each other that they talked about their families and their friends and told stories. Daria was going to sleep in on Saturday morning, but something told her that if she didn't want to suffer from cabin fever all weekend, she needed to get dressed and get outside now. She hastily put on some clothes and went outdoors, foregoing breakfast. The day was cold and windy and overcast. She got as far as the path leading to the Forbidden Forest when she felt a couple of raindrops land on her hair, at which point she turned around and walked back to the Castle. By the time she reached the entrance it had turned into a rain-shower.

It continued to rain most of that weekend. Daria stayed in, using much of the time for studying, some of it for writing in her journal, writing letters, and reading a couple of the books she'd brought with her from Texas. She was relieved to learn that her fellow Ravenclaws weren't all-work-and-no-play; a couple of shelves in the commons room had an assortment of books students had bought for personal reading and had left behind. Daria decided to do the same with the books she'd brought from Highland and a couple of murder mysteries she'd picked up in London.

She did put the books aside for a late Saturday evening game of Exploding Snap. By the time the girls put the cards away, Daria had been forced to admit that she wasn't a very good player, but she did do better than her first game.

The week started with more rain, something Daria suspected that she was going to have to get used to. Her Monday classes went well enough, although Daria felt a faint trace of foreboding, like she was about to get some very unpleasant news.

Despite her concern that a shoe was going to drop (although she didn't know what sort of shoe would hit the floor), Daria was finally able to get to the school library and begin to research Professor Flamel. What she found surprised and awed her. Not only was Professor Flamel old but he was very old—at least six hundred years old, outlasting any of the other long-lived wizards and witches she'd ever heard about. Professor Flamel was a noted alchemist and a master potion-maker, allegedly having created something called the Elixir of Life. He was also reputed to have made something called the Philosopher's Stone, another instrument of immortality, and had worked with Professor Dumbledore on at least two projects.

It was a lot to take in. By the time she'd finished mentally organizing her notes, she realized that she'd taken a couple of potions classes from one of the greatest wizards of the Second Millennium. The closest equivalent she could think of in Muggle education would be if she'd been taught beginning chemistry by Marie Curie or beginning physics by Wilhelm Conrad Roentgen. She spent the rest of that day walking around in a daze. She went to sleep that evening feeling as shaken as if she'd been in a car wreck.

The bad news came on Tuesday. She'd come into the Great Hall for lunch and to watch the owls deliver other people's mail. She was hoping for something from home but didn't anything. An owl flew the length of the Ravenclaw table, landed, then hopped over to where she was sitting. The owl looked at her expectantly. She took the envelope from its beak and saw that it was from her Mom. She paid the owl, then opened the letter after the owl took off and flew away.

She opened her letter, wondering what her mother had to say_._

_Hi, Sweetie! _

_I hope you're doing well and that you're enjoying your stay at school. I'm delighted to hear that you're making new friends and hope to meet some of them someday._

"_We're all doing fine. The law office is keeping me busy. Your Dad is still at his job. He's still in counseling and is mellowing out._

"_Your sisters are doing well. Quinn is making her mark in fourth grade; she'd popular with her teachers as well with her classmates. Ronnie is also popular with her fellow kindergartners and her teachers. I do worry about her adventurous streak; she hasn't gotten into trouble but I think she takes too many chances._

Her face fell as she read the next paragraph.

"_I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I saw Mrs. Dagworth at the United Grocery Store and she told me about what's going on with your friend Laura. I am sorry to say that the doctors weren't able to bring her cancer under control. They've moved her over to hospice care._

"_I know that your friendship with Laura means a lot to you and I hate that I had to be the person to tell you what's up with your friend. Know that my thoughts and love are with you as Laura is fighting her own battle._

_Love,_

_Your mother_

_Oh, Hell, _thought Daria_,_ tears forming in her eyes_._

-(((O-O)))-

The second week after receiving the bad news from Texas was miserable. She did tell her room-mates and Tabitha about Laura: the girls were sympathetic, but they, like her, couldn't do anything. Daria spent much of it worrying about Laura and cursing herself about not being there or not being able to cure Laura's cancer. She thought of Laura lying in a hospital bed, either in pain or doped-up with pain-killers, trying to fight the illness that was killing her. Her grief showed in her work that week: her Transfiguration and Charms work was off, she spent her history of magic classes scowling at her desk top, and her mind kept drifting back to Highland and Laura during Herbology. She was able to hold it together enough for Potions; she was grateful that Professor Flamel was teaching that day instead of Professor Snape. She doubted that she would have gotten any sympathy from him.

Daria fell asleep in the Commons Room after her Monday afternoon classes. She dreamed of a circle of sorry and anxiety, then of a white light, of someone floating away from the pain and the confines of a weak and ailing body and moving on to something else. On some deep level she knew what it meant, even in her dream-state, but she didn't want to name it because that would mean that it was real and had actually happened.

Daria had learned that Hogwarts held an annual Halloween feast. Neither students nor staff dressed up in costumes, but there were carved pumpkins, spiders, and bats. She liked the bats in theory—there had been a large bat colony near Highland—but she didn't care to risk having them poop in her dinner.

She roused herself and looked around the Commons Room. It was already dark; that meant everyone else was probably in the Great Hall. She descended the stairs, put her books on her bed, then went off to dinner.

She was still in a state of gloom on Tuesday, so much so that both Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick noticed it. Professor McGonagall gave her some sympathy, then invited her to sit down and have some tea after class. She'd grown to know Daria well enough that she practically ordered her to follow her after class, sit down, and drink the tea. Afterwards, Daria grudgingly admitted to herself that the older woman's approach helped a lot.

The following day was the 31st. She tried to make herself enjoy the Halloween Feast, but with only limited success. It was the sort of party she probably would killed for to attend back in the first or second grade, and even now, she could see some of the delightful features that Professor Dumbledore and the staff had added: the giant Jack-O-Lanterns, the spider-web decorations, the green hag stirring the cauldron. Some joker knew his or her anatomy to add what looked like human legs to go on another hag's grill.

Unlike her, most of the other students, at least the younger ones were enjoying the festivities. Daria tried to think her way out of her gloom but only with partial success. _It's not just for you_, Daria, she told herself, _it's for the other kids, too_. _Don't be a party-pooper_, said some inner voice. She wanted to tell the voice to stuff it.

Still, it wasn't all gloom and doom for her. Dahlia, Majda, and Anahita tried to cheer her up. Majda reminded her that All Saints' Day followed Halloween, and that it was all right to remember the dead. That, and what Anahita had told her about Samhain, the time of year when the barriers between the lands of the living and the land of the dead lessen, lifted her out of her gloom for a while. Did the dead travel over to the lands of the living? She briefly tried to imagine how Mad Dog Morgendorffer would react if he could see the goings-on in the Great Hall. She tried to be congenial, but the most she was able to do was eat too much dessert. She retired early and went to sleep.

It was about 5:00AM Thursday morning. Daria felt a need to get up early. She roused herself awake, then fumbled for her eyeglasses. The foot of her bed felt chillier than usual. She put on her glasses, looked at the foot of her bed, and saw Laura Penrick sitting there and grinning at her.

"Laura?" said Daria.

Laura grinned at her astonished expression. "It's me alright," she said, her form shimmering white like the other ghosts she'd seen around Hogwarts and elsewhere.

"I am so sorry," said Daria.

"I know. I would have liked to have stuck around longer but it was my time to go," said Laura.

"Couple of days ago?" asked Daria.

"Yeah," said Laura. "I spent them saying goodbye to family and friends then found out just where you were in Scotland." She grinned again. "You've been keeping a lot of stuff under your hat, Morgendorffer. The Howard School my ass."

Daria blushed.

"OK, what's the REAL name of this outfit?" said Laura.

"The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," said Daria.

"And you're a," said Laura.

"Un-hunh," said Daria.

"Is everybody else on the grounds a witch?" asked Laura.

"Just the girls," said Daria. "The guys are called wizards."

"Nice grounds," said Laura. "Dunno about the castle. Keeping it up must be a pain in the butt. How many years do you have to put in before you graduate?"

"Seven," said Daria.

Someone knocked on one of Daria's bedposts and drew back one of the curtains.

"Daria, could you keep it down? We'd still like to put in a little more sleep," said Anahita, her eyes widening at the sight of Laura's ghostly form.

"And this is?" she added.

"Laura Penrick," said Daria. "Laura, this is Anahita Waring, one of my roommates."

"Hi!" said Laura. "I'm on my way out and I wanted to say goodbye to Daria before I move on."

Anahita, unlike Daria, had grown up in a magical family and knew what Laura was saying. "Oh, how do you do?" said Anahita. She'd grown accustomed to seeing lots of ghosts at Hogwarts ghosts but hadn't ever seen any from west Texas. She noted that Laura was older than her sister Violet and that her Texas accent was thicker than Daria's.

"If your roommates are still trying to sleep, maybe we ought to take this conversation outside," said Laura.

"Yeah," said Daria. She moved her bedcovers and opened the curtain. She hoped that the house elves had left her slippers where she'd left them when she turned in the night before. Sometimes they liked to move things around.

The house elves hadn't moved them. Daria put on her slippers and she and Laura slipped out into the hallway.

"So this is why you and Farrah fell out?" said Laura, gesturing with her hand at the walls and ceiling.

"Yeah," said Daria. "It's not that I wanted this so much that I already had it and needed to learn to get it under control."

"Such as?" said Laura.

"Like the time I turned my Mom's cell phone into a plastic frog and the Crazy Twins' hair electric blue," said Daria. Laura guffawed.

"So where was the phone's charger socket?" asked Laura.

"Where do you think?" said Daria.

Laura grinned.

"Seriously, that was picayune stuff," Daria continued. "Some people accidentally do other thing sand do real damage. This isn't as simple as putting the shotgun in the gun safe and locking the kitchen knives in the drawer at night. I don't want to become a danger to my family and friends."

"Could you do something like that?" said Laura.

"I already threw a guy against the wall," said Daria. "He'd broken into my house and was threatening me."

"Hmm," said Laura.

Daria decided to change the subject. "So what do you think of the teachers?"

"Interesting bunch, the ones I've seen," said Laura. "The old woman with the witch's hat sounds like someone you'd better not piss off. That guy with the shoulder-length hair has a lot of dark in him, and I don't think you should trust the guy who looks like a cross between Gandalf and Santa Claus."

"Oh-kay," said Daria.

"I did like the short guy, the one who looks like a garden gnome-turned-professor," said Laura. "What does he teach?"

"Charms," said Daria. "He's also my head of house. His name is Filius Flitwick. Also, he doesn't look it, but he can be a bad-ass. He used to be a professional duelist."

Laura gave her a look of disapproval.

"No, he wasn't a professional killer," said Daria. "Some magical duels can be fancier versions of sports like boxing matches or the WWE."

"Him?" Laura said incredulously.

"Size matters not," Daria replied.

Laura grinned.

"And he speaks proper, grammatical English, too," Daria added deadpan.

Daria and Laura were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't notice Simone Willoughby step up behind them.

"Morgendorffer, wrap it up with your Yankee friend," said Simone. "You're blocking the hallway. You can talk with your new friend later."

Laura turned to glare at Simone. "Honey, shut up," she said.

"Eh?" said Simone, temporarily non-plussed.

"I just died," said Laura. "I'm on the clock. I've only got a little window to talk to Daria before I have to move on and I don't want to waste it talking to a self-important prissy-assed pea-brained idiot who thinks she's next to God Almighty."

Simone's eyes bulged. Nobody had talked to her that way since her third year.

"Morgendorffer!" said Simone.

"Just ignore her, Daria," said Laura.

"Anyway, I really have to go in a little bit," said Laura, "and I wanted to say good-bye and good luck before I left."

"Ten points, Morgendorffer," said Simone.

"Someone twist your panties, sweetie?" Laura said snarkily.

"Fifteen points!" said Simone. "Detention!"

Daria was feeling nervous, despite her desire to stay cool. Simone's threat had rattled her.

"Daria, calm down, don't bolt," said Laura, turning her attention back to Daria.

"Before I go, I want to tell you that some things are more important than others and there are times that some people ought to be ignored," said Laura. Unfortunately for Simone, a couple of the other Ravenclaw Fledgling girls had stepped out into the hall and overheard her last comment.

"Anyhow, I wanted to tell you that I love you..." Laura began.

"You are not a…" Simone began.

"Stop interrupting, you dumb cow!" Laura replied testily.

"And I'm rooting for you," Laura said to Daria. "Live a good life and tell me about your adventures and tell me about your grandbabies." She faded from sight, leaving Daria alone with Simone as well as the Ravenclaw first-years who'd heard part of the conversation.

-(((O-O)))—

Simone was still seething after she dragged Daria to Professor Flitwick's office. Professor Flitwick was reading an article about charms and transfiguration when he looked up and saw the Ravenclaw prefect dragging a resentful Daria Morgendorffer into his office.

"Miss Willoughby!" he exclaimed. "What is this about?"

Simone was still seething. "This girl," she said angrily. "This insolent girl just went out of the way to insult me."

"I was out in the corridor talking to my friend Laura," said Daria. "She'd just died and we were saying our goodbyes when she barged into our conversation."

"That would be your west Texas rancher friend, wouldn't it?" said Professor Flitwick. "The one you said had been seriously ill."

"Yes, sir," said Daria, who shot a resentful look at Simone Willoughby.

"I'm sorry to hear about that," he said. "Do you know if she's going to be a permanent ghost or is she planning to go on?"

"I don't know, sir," Daria replied. "I think she's planning to move on. She told me that she was on the clock."

Professor Flitwick gave a brief chuckle. He'd heard that expression before, but never in this context.

Simone's ire had cooled just enough that she began to realize that there was more to what had just happened than just the Morgendorffer girl talking to some random ghost.

"I am told that the barriers between the worlds of the living and the dead weaken this time of year and that many spirits have to step lively if they don't care to remain behind," said Professor Flitwick. "If this is what happened, I hope she succeeds in her journey."

"But sir, this girl was insulting and disrespectful," said Simone.

"Did Miss Morgendorffer insult you herself?" asked Professor Flitwick.

Simone thought to say yes but thought better of it. She'd built a reputation of being honest with her head of house and wanted to keep it. Moreover, it was the other Texas girl, the one Morgendorffer had claimed had just died, that had been the one to insult her. "It was mostly that other girl," she grudgingly conceded.

"I would like to remind both of your that this Miss—what did you say her last name was, Miss Morgendorffer?" said Professor Flitwick.

"Penrick, sir," said Daria. "Laura Penrick."

"Miss Penrick is neither a Ravenclaw nor a student at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he finished.

"How many points did you take off Miss Morgendorffer, Miss Willoughby?"

"Fifteen," Simone replied. "And detention."

"I choose to reduce that to five points and detention with me early next week," replied Professor Flitwick. "If the Penrick girl remains on school grounds after Samhain has passed, we can discuss her status and any other penalties then." Both Simone and Daria wanted to say more. Daria thought that the Prefect was about to say something, but her expression changed and she said nothing. _I hope she realizes what an idiot she made of herself_, thought Daria, _but I bet she doesn't_.

There was a moment of silence.

"Well, that's it, then," said Professor Flitwick. "Miss Willoughby, thank you for coming by. Miss Morgendorffer, why don't you wash up and get dressed? You might want to have some breakfast before your first class."

-(((O-O)))—

Author's Notes: I know that many of my readers were hoping that Daria would return to Highland in time and perform a last-minute magical save on Laura and that both girls would go on with their lives. I apologize for disappointing you all.

Having apologized for Laura's death, I am not going to re-write thisI'vealso lost friends and family to cancer and their illnesses have occasionally moved quickly. Also, _Daria Ravenclaw_, like JK Rowling's _Harry Potter_, is a story about death and partings as well as about friendship and growth (Touching on death and mourning seems particularly appropriate right now). As Daria's time at Hogwarts continues, she's going to find out that she has less and less in common with the non-magical world and will grow that much more alienated from the non-magical part of Highland, Texas.


	37. Into November

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter 37: Into November

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither property. I neither expect nor deserve any sort of financial remuneration for this work of fiction; I am writing for my own amusement.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

On Friday, Daria awoke to a cold rain shower. It rained most of the day, which Daria thought was appropriate. She attended her classes, went to the library before dinner to do some research, but her mind wasn't in it. She was still in a dark mood when she returned to her dorm room, drew her bed-curtains, and retired early.

Daria sulked in her bed for Saturday morning. She briefly wished that things had gone different on Thursday, that Laura had decided to become a ghost instead of going on, then felt guilty for being selfish. She knew and liked a couple of the ghosts in the Castle, but no matter how old they were or how interesting they were to talk to, they all seemed to have a common problem: they were stuck. They seemed unwilling and unable to move on. That would be a hell of a thing to wish on Laura, she realized, then blinked away a couple of tears and opened her bed-curtain.

It had stopped raining over the night, and Daria could look out the window and see blue sky here and there through the cloud-cover. She decided that she was not in the mood to spend her day at the library. Instead, she'd do something else after breakfast. The other girls had already gotten up, eaten breakfast, and gotten on with their day, so Daria ate breakfast alone. After eating, she walked out one of the Castle's side entrances, then made her way to the animal pens. That, she thought, would be more appropriate.

When she arrived, she quickly discovered that she was not the only student there. Charlie Weasley was there, as was Ian MacCready and a Hufflepuff girl she didn't recognize. The Hufflepuff was older than she was but younger than Charlie.

"Hello, Daria!" said Charlie. "I didn't think you'd come by today. I'd have thought you'd have waited until tomorrow."

"Hi, Charlie," said Daria. "It seemed appropriate."

"You look distracted," said Charlie.

_That's one way of putting it_, she thought. "I got news from home," she said. "I learned that a friend died."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Charlie.

"She'd been sick for a while and it got worse," she said. "She stopped by Thursday morning to say goodbye."

Charlie's eyes widened. That was unusual; the girl must have been magical in some way.

"All the way from Texas?" asked Charlie.

"All the way from Texas," Daria replied.

"Was she a witch?" he asked. "Most Muggles can't…"

"Laura wasn't most Muggles," Daria interrupted. "She could and she did."

"Was she older or younger than you were?" he asked.

"Older," said Daria. "She was a cousin of my former best friend. We remained friends after Farrah and I fell out. I still looked up to her."

"What did she do?" asked Charlie.

"She was a rancher," said Daria. Her parents owned a ranch."

_Ah_, thought Charlie.

"What kinds of animals did they raise?" asked the Hufflepuff.

"Cattle, goats," Daria. "They did have some horses. Laura helped teach me to ride. She sat me on a pony named Goliath."

"Goliath?" said the Hufflepuff, and giggled.

Charlie and Ian looked blank. "What's so funny?" said Ian.

"Goliath was a giant from the Christian Old Testament," said the Hufflepuff. "A pony is smaller than a horse."

She turned to Daria. "I presume your friends also had horses."

"They did," said Daria.

"So did you become a great equestrienne?" asked the Hufflepuff.

"No," said Daria.

"Did you learn how to ride?" asked the Hufflepuff.

"Not well," Daria replied. "I felt kinda silly, but I learned to keep up."

"That's better than some do," said the Hufflepuff.

Daria then said hello to Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn and spent most of the rest of the day helping around the pens. It was hard, tiring work. At times, Daria could imagine Laura working beside her and wondered what she'd have to say about the magical menagerie. She worked longer and harder than she had when she'd visited the Penricks' ranch and by the time she was done, she had blisters and sore muscles. Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn thanked her for her help and Professor Kettleburn awarded her a couple of points despite her protestations.

When she returned to her dorm room that evening, she wasn't quite in the mood to play cards, but was content to kibbitz as the other girls played Exploding Snap. She remembered reading a novel where some girls played strip poker, except those girls were supposedly in college and she didn't know how to play.

-(((O-O)))—

Daria's grief lessened somewhat on Sunday and she was able to resume her routines. It rained again on Sunday morning and Daria chose to spend her day studying her textbooks, then working on a couple of essays Professors Flitwick and McGonagall had assigned them.

The school week resumed on Monday morning, and Daria managed to get to her classes and pay more attention. Laura's passing still saddened her, but the hurt was less. Monday evening rolled around and Daria realized that it was time to go to her detention with Professor Flitwick.

-(((O-O)))-

A Charms Classroom  
(Daria's point of view)

I decided to leave dinner a little early. I stood up, excused myself, and set off for the charms classroom where I'd be serving my detention. By now I was familiar enough with Hogwarts Castle that I was able to find it with only a minimum of trouble. I'd also learned how to time myself walking between classes and I thought I'd be on time, but I checked my pocket watch to make sure and to my relief I discovered that I was a little early. I knocked softly on the door and waited for a response.

"Come in," said Professor Flitwick.

"Ah, Miss Morgendorffer," he said. "Please come in."

Professor Flitwick was in a good mood.

"I'm sorry if I made any trouble," I said. I wasn't sorry for being there when Laura rained on Willoughby's parade, but I didn't want to dump crap on Flitwick. I realized that I'd come to like and respect the guy.

"Actually, you're not really in trouble," he said,

_So why am I here_, I wondered.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here for detention."

"Good question, Sir," I said.

"Politics, dear," said Professor Flitwick. "Miss Willoughby is a Prefect. Prefects play a useful role here at the school. They help enforce discipline, set a good example, and the better ones help guide the younger students as well as their peers and provide a sympathetic ear to listen to them in times of trouble. We can't watch you children at all hours and we do need helpers to see and hear things that we faculty members miss."

He frowned. "Sometimes, though, even the best prefects make mistakes, either because of heated emotions or because they lack enough information to make better judgments."

"I have taught here for several decades," he said. "I do not like to undermine my prefects' authority without good cause. Not if they're generally doing a good job."

_So are you taking sides,_ I thought but didn't say.

"I would like you to keep a confidence for me," he said. "I believe that Miss Willoughby was hasty in taking points and this detention gives me a chance to talk with you."

"You have ruffled Miss Willoughby's feathers," he said, "Or I should say, your friend Miss Penrick has."

I grinned.

"When did your friend die?" he said.

"A couple of days before Halloween. Cancer," I said.

"I expect that regardless of the facts and my sympathies, you've probably gained a place in Miss Willoughby's bad books," he said. "She may pay closer attention to your behavior to take points for infractions. I hope you bear up. I trust that she will not abuse her privileges and take extra points from you."

"It may be bothersome for the rest of this school year," he continued. "On the other hand, you need worry about Miss Willoughby only until the end of the Spring term. She's a Seventh-Year and is set to graduate in June. Someone else will take her place as a prefect next year."

"You may become a Prefect yourself someday," he said.

_Me? Hah_, I thought.

"I'm sure you brought some homework," he said. "Why don't you make good use of this time?"

"Thank you, Sir," I said.

We sat quietly in the classroom. Professor Flitwick busied himself taking notes while I caught up on my homework. After a while he spoke again.

"Miss Morgendorffer," he said.

"Sir?" I said.

"All of us have seen ghosts, but very few of us have seen the spirits of people leaving their bodies before they move on to the next world," he said. "Have you ever seen such spirits before?"

"Yes, Sir," I said. "Once I'm sure about, the other I'm not."

"Do you wish to share about the one you're sure about?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir," I said. "That was Suzy Roe, another girl from Highland. She'd died in a car crash. She talked to me because her other relatives either couldn't see or hear her or were either too upset to talk to her. Also, my Mom has a reputation for giving ghosts short shrift."

"Your mother can see ghosts?" he said.

"Yes, Sir," I said.

"Interesting," he said.

-(((O-O)))—

When Daria awoke Tuesday morning, she realized that a week had probably passed since Laura's death. She thought about it and decided that it was now time to write condolence letters to the Penricks and to Farrah. Without telephones or e-mail, she'd probably only now be getting the news of Laura's death. It was time to start writing.

She decided to write the Penricks first.

"_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Penrick,_

"_I am so sorry to hear about Laura's death. Laura and I weren't close friends but her friendship meant a lot to me. Laura was someone I respected and looked up to as an example to follow. I have no idea as to how much pain and grief you're going through right now, but I wanted to let you know that I miss her, too. I cannot thank you enough for introducing me to her. _

_You're in my thoughts and prayers,_

_Sincerely,_

_Daria Morgendorffer._

She then set to work on writing a letter to Farrah. She might never get Farrah's friendship back, but she still cared about her.

"_Dear Farrah…_" she began. It was awkward, it was painful, and it was time-consuming, but when she was done she had two letters to send to Highland, Texas.

-(((O-O)))-

The weather turned colder in November. It didn't snow, at least not yet, but the temperature dropped enough that Daria felt the cold seep into the castle walls and into the corridors. To Daria's surprise, a lot of Hogwarts students' spirits perked up in spite of the colder weather. Daria soon learned why: Quidditch season had formally started, and the first game was set for the second Saturday in November, a match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

None of the first-year Ravenclaws would likely be playing that game. Daria had heard that Cho Chang had tried out and made the reserves, as had one of the guys. Daria decided that she ought to go see it even if she wasn't a Quidditch virgin.

"Have you ever seen a Quidditch match before, Daria?" asked Violet Banks a couple of days before the event.

"As a matter of fact I have," Daria.

"Was this a student game or are there professional teams out your way?" asked Violet, her curiosity aroused..

"Strictly amateur," said Daria. "Some of the wizards and witches in a couple of west Texas small towns and rural counties play each other or occasionally other amateur teams from northern Mexico or from Cibola."

"What is it like?" asked Violet.

"Very informal, at least the ones I went to," said Daria. "They hold games out in the boondocks and most of the players don't bother with the fancy gear Isaw in the illustration. The spectators not only fly or apparate in, but some live close enough to drive in."

"Drive?" said Violet, "as in Muggle automobiles."

"In automobiles," said Daria. "It makes it easier to hold tailgate parties before and afterwards."

"Tailgate?" said Violet.

"Many American cars and pickup trucks have rear gates that lower flat," said Daria. "People set their serving dishes and drink coolers on them."

Violet looked even more confused and decided to change the subject

"Are the rules any different for Quidditch in your part of the world?" she asked

"We have a sundowner rule," said Daria. The arcana of Quidditch hadn't interest her that much, but she was glad she learned them now. Games start around an hour and a half until Sundown and we play until one of the Seekers catches the Snitch or it gets too dark."

"How strange," said Violet. "I can't imagine people standing for that around here."

Daria shrugged. "Some folks have day jobs in the Muggle world, and some of the roads get a little tricky after you leave the pavement," she said.

"Well, if you don't stay in your dorm room and pout, you can see how we play Quidditch," said Violet.

_Oh-kay_, thought Daria. _I suppose that seeing British Quidditch matches is part of my education so I might as well go_.

On Saturday, Daria followed the crowd of Hogwarts students out to the Quidditch pitch. Seeing so many Slytherins and Ravenclaws trooping out to the stands didn't surprise her; it was their house teams after all. But equal numbers of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors also were making their way to the field. These people are absolutely nuts about Quidditch, she thought. It's like football back home, and in west Texas football stood next to God and the American flag.

When Daria arrived at the pitch, she was immediately stuck by how formal Hogwarts Quidditch was. The stands were built high in the air over the field and their sides were decorated with banners. The teams not only wore house colors, but also wizarding robes in their house colors. She looked through a borrowed pair of binoculars and was surprised to see that not only the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall showed up, but so did the school staff as well as some wizarding big-shots she didn't recognize, except for one lady she thought might be Millicent Bagnold, the British Minister for Magic.

The teams formed up much like international football players did on the ground, and Madam Hooch addressed the teams saying that she expected a good clean game and no rough handling. The Quaffle went up and the game was on.

Daria thought she'd see fair play: she soon realized that this game was turning into a curb-stomp. The Slytherin chasers handled the Ravenclaw chasers roughly, occasionally fouling them and taking possession of the Quaffle, which they then flew over to the Ravenclaw goal hoops, slinging Quaffle after Quaffle through them. It was absolutely painful to watch. So painful, in fact, that she found herself groaning when the Slytherin team scored another goal.

After Slytherin scored a seven-goal lead over Ravenclaw, Daria turned her head away from the slaughter, wishing she'd packed a book or something. She looked across the pitch and saw that the Slytherin fans were cheering and happy. _There is no joy in Mudville_, Daria thought bitterly.

She was distracted by Anahita, who was holding the arm of a man about her Dad's age wearing a Slytherin scarf. "Daria," she said, "I'd like you to meet my Da."

"Dah, this is Daria Morgendorffer, the American girl I told you about."

Mr. Waring looked very much out of place in Slytherin green and silver, but Daria gave him credit for nerve.

"Miss Morgendorffer," he said. "I'm Mordred Waring. A pleasure to meet you."

"Daria Morgendorffer," Daria replied. "Muggleborn from Highland, Texas."

"You say you're Muggle-born?" said Mordred. "That's surprising. Seeing you for the first time I would guess that you were at least a Half-Blood."

"Muggleborn," said Daria. "Neither Jake or Helen have anything to do with fancy sticks."

Mr. Waring smiled. "Is this your first Quidditch match?" he asked.

"I saw an informal one out my way before I left to come here," said Daria.

"I've never heard of any Texas teams," replied Mr. Waring.

"The Highland Hoop-Snakes have a limited fan-base," said Daria.

Mr. Waring chuckled. "I like your dry sense of humor," he said. "We may make a proper British witch out of you yet."

Daria liked Anahita and so she held her tongue.

The aerial slaughter continued. A Ravenclaw boy let Daria borrow his binoculars for a moment and she used them to glance across the field at the Slytherin stands. Was Professor Snake actually grinning? He certainly looked pleased.

The Slytherins scored again, and Daria joined the Ravenclaw groan.

Mr. Waring looked around and noticed that he was collecting some glares. He excused himself, saying "I love you, Anahita, but I do want to do a little cheering for my own house," he said fondly.

The match mercifully ended when the Slytherin Seeker found the snitch about an hour and a half after game time.

-(((O-O))—

The weather continued to grow colder and Daria wondered if it was snow. It didn't, but if it didn't snow, the weather gods made up for it with cold rain showers. Sometimes the rain just came down from the sky (Howbeit harder than it had back in Highland), but at other times it came down in wet, windy waves that made either made her scamper if she had to cross between buildings or grateful that she was indoors.

It finally snowed late in the third week of November. Daria and some of the students from the southern parts or Britain dashed outdoors to marvel at the snowflakes. It seldom snowed in Highland, snowfalls limiting themselves to a few brief showers that more often than not melted away a day or two later. The first storm's snowfall didn't stick, but Daria was reassured that there'd be real snow later on.

A day or two later, Daria was stopped by Professor McGonagall after Transfiguration class.

"Miss Morgendorffer," she said. "Have you given any thought as to where you'll be spending your Christmas holidays?"


	38. Advent Cometh

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl Advent Commeth

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise. This work was written for my own amusement, and I neither expect or deserve any sort of financial reward for this work of fiction.

Positive Reviews are nice, though.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

It snowed a few days before Thanksgiving, coating the Castle and grounds in white. _If this was back in the States, it would be real Currier and Ives_, thought Daria. However, the Castle was high medieval, the terrain the mountainous Scottish Highlands, and the colder night temperatures forced Daria to watch her footing in ways she hadn't had to back in Texas.

She thought about Thanksgiving and her family back home. This was one of those times where she was reminded that she was far from home. The British didn't celebrate Thanksgiving, and she certainly wasn't going to be riding with Dad and Mom to the Temple Thanksgiving dinner in Sweetwater this year. She wondered how Rabbi Tallman was doing. Despite the fact that she dithered between her mother's nominal Methodism and her Dad's Judaism, Daria hadn't declared for either faith. Still, she respected Rabbi Tallman and missed the Thanksgiving dinners.

Some of her Ravenclaw housemates knew that Americans had different holidays.

"Don't you Americans celebrate a holiday just before Advent?" Dahlia asked at dinner.

"We do," said Daria. "We celebrate Thanksgiving."

"It sounds religious," said Dahlia's sister Violet.

"It was, at least originally," said Daria.

"What's it's significance?" asked Violet.

"Well, the Pilgrims had arrived in Plymouth the previous winter, half of them had died of hunger and disease, and they were grateful that they were going to have enough to eat for the coming winter," said Daria. "That sounds like adequate inspiration to me."

"Pilgrims," said Violet. "Those were the Puritans, weren't they?"

"Actually not," said Daria. "The Puritans came along about ten years later. The Pilgrims had been religious separatists who had moved to the Netherlands and then later decided that they didn't want to be assimilated. That's why they headed for the Americas."

"They led the witch trials, didn't they?" asked Violet. Professor Binns' History of Magic classes only briefly touched on its history in North America, but the witch trials were not only a topic in wizarding history magazines but also in No-Maj popular history magazines, too.

"That was more the Puritans than the Pilgrims," said Daria, "but the flavors were melting. Either way, they didn't like stick-wavers very much."

"You know a lot about that history," said Majda, who hadn't said anything.

Daria shrugged. "Well, I started reading up after I learned that I was a witch and when I thought I'd be going to Ilvermorny. It seemed useful at the time."

"I could also add that the Puritans didn't like Catholics very much either, but I doubt that would get you very many points on Professor Binns' exams." The girls gigled. Professor Binns' lectures seldom touched on anything to do with the non-magical world.

"So what does Thanksgiving mean to Americans these days?" asked Violet.

"It's a time for family get-togethers, stuffing ourselves with turkey, and watching football games," said Daria. (1) "Of course it was a little hard in our case, what with us Morgendorffers scattered across the US and most of my mother's family scattered along the East Coast. That's why we ate out at Temple in Sweetwater."

"What is Sweetwater?" asked Marietta Edgecombe, who hadn't been participating in the conversation at all.

"Sweetwater is a town about 70 miles east of Highland," said Daria.

"Sounds exciting," said Marietta.

"A thrill a minute," said Daria. "You can look at the cows, watch the traffic on the Interstate, watch the pump-jacks go up and down and up and down, and look at all the displaced wizards and witches wondering why they flooed away at Exbury and came out in Sweetwater." There had been an article in _The_ _Daily Prophet_ about some routing problems with the British floo network, with wizards and witches occasionally finding themselves emerging in fireplaces miles away from where they'd meant to go. So far as Daria knew, nobody had flooed from Britain and emerged in Texas.

Marietta frowned at Daria and turned her head towards a conversation Cho was having with an older Ravenclaw witch, a Prince if Daria remembered her name properly.

"Speaking of holidays, Daria, what are you going to do for the winter break?" said Anahita.

"I don't know yet," said Daria. "I was planning to sound out Cuthbert Fink-Nottle about their holiday plans, but unless they say yes, I might be spending it here at the Castle. I'll have to tell Professor McGonagall what my plans are soon."

Anahita looked thoughtful. "Hold the thought, Daria," she said. "I might have something."

-(((O-O)))—

Daria walked over to the Hufflepuff table to talk to Cuthbert. She and Cuthbert were still friends, but not close ones. Daria had her circle of friends, Cuthbert had his, but they weren't particularly close. Still, she felt that their families were close enough that she could at least start sounding out Fink-Nottles about whether she could stay with him or if she needed to make other plans.

She wondered if the Fink-Nottles could put her up. The Fink-Nottles had probably made their own plans and for all Daria knew, they might not even be home for Christmas. Daria knew that they had relatives scattered around England and they might be off visiting some of them.

Also, the idea of inviting herself to stay at the Fink-Nottles bothered her. True, Quinn wouldn't bat an eyelash at inviting herself over for a party or a weekend, but that wasn't something Daria usually did. It was part of the code of manners she'd picked up while growing up. She preferred to be asked.

Cuthbert was seated with a clutch of his Hufflepuff fiends and were pouring over a couple of sports magazines. Daria got closer and saw that they were football magazines. (2) _I bet that he and his mates have already plotted out which teams are going to be national champions_, she thought.

"Hey, Cuthbert, how are things going?" she said.

"Good, good," said Cuthbert, looking up from his magazine. Cuthbert was a cheerful, outgoing guy who, despite his quirks, had attracted a circle of friends at Hogwarts. Judging from the look of these guys, Daria would bet even money that most of them were Muggle-born or half-bloods who'd kept their interest in No-Maj sports, Pureblood snobbery be d_d.

He turned his head away from Daria for a moment. "Oh, Dennis, Michael, this Is Daria, that girl from Texas I was telling you about." Daria then had to deal with a couple of introductions to friendly young Hufflepuff wizards with names and faces she hoped she'd remember later.

"So how are you planning to deal with Father Christmas?" said Daria, feeling cheapened.

"I think Dad has plans," said Cuthbert, who seemed to understand the unspoken question Daria had just asked him. "You're not flying back to Texas for the holidays?"

"My grant doesn't cover that," said Daria.

"I see," said Cuthbert. ""I'll ask him."

"Thanks," said Daria.

-(((O-O)))—

Thanksgiving came and went. There was another Quidditch game that weekend: Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor. Despite her growing feeling that Quidditch mania in Magical Britain was as bad or worse than America's obsession with Football, Daria made her way to the stands to sit and shiver as the Hufflepuffs flew against the far-abler Gryffindor team. The Weasley brothers were holy terrors: Fred and George were good beaters and Charlie was a talented Seeker. The Gryffindor chasers scored goal after goal after goal against the hard-pressed Hufflepuffs. But even the best had off-days, and Daria got to see the Hufflepuff Seeker holding the Snitch that ended the game. The final score was Gryffindor 80 to Hufflepuff's 160.

-(((O-O)))—

On Monday, the weather cleared and Daria got to see an extraordinary sight. She and the Banks sisters decided to take a stroll along the grounds near the edge of the Forbidden Forest when they saw several centaurs emerge from under the trees and walk towards where the school archery club had left out its large, round targets. A couple of them were adults, but the rest were juveniles about the size of small ponies.

"Look at that!" said Violet. "Amazing! I don't think I've ever seen that many come out of the forest at once."

"What are they doing?" asked Dahlia.

"I think I know," said Daria. She'd spotted the centaurs carrying unstrung bows and full quivers. "I want to watch it. Let's go over to the archery range." The girls walked over towards where the club usually kept their targets, keeping a respectful distance from the centaurs and a prudent one from the targets.

Daria's guess proved correct, as all three girls and a couple of other students watched as the adults formed a line about thirty-five feet from the targets, then string not only their bows but smaller ones, which they handed to the juveniles. A couple of the adults handed quivers to the older juveniles.

"So what next?" asked Dahlia.

"Target practice," Daria said with a grin.

Daria's curiosity overcame her caution and she walked a little closer. Just as she thought, a couple of the adults were mares and the juveniles were of both sexes. The adults talked to the juveniles, one of them helping one of the younger ones with their posture. The older juveniles looked ready to let fly, and in a couple of minutes they got their wish. Daria watched as they drew back their bowstrings and let loose at the targets—Bullseye, Bullseye, Bullseye, Blue, Bullseye, Red, Bullseye. She made a note to herself not to p.o. the centaurs.

A Slytherin with more curiosity than good sense started to walk past Daria. D_it! Daria thought she grabbed the larger boy around the waist and stepped back.

"Let me go, you little Mudblood!" he said.

"Unh-unh, you idiot!" Daria replied. "Any closer and you're going to be wearing an Arrow shirt. Use you G_d d_n brains!"

Several centaurs launched a volley of arrows at the nearest target and the Slytherin reconsidered.

One of the centaur adults said something a minute or so later. Daria looked at the targets: they looked pincushioned. The centaurs stopped shooting and began to pull arrows from the targets and gather the few that had landed in the ground.

One of them looked at the crowd of young wizards and witches that had formed to watch and called out "Would any of you lot like to try?"

_Do bears live in the woods_, thought Daria. Dahlia was standing nearby. Daria walked over to her and handed her her wand. "Hold this for me, please," she said.

"Daria, what _are_ you doing?" said Dahlia, taking Daria's wand.

"What, no?" said the centaur.

"I'm game," Daria called out, and stepped forward.

"So am I," said a somewhat-older Slytherin boy.

The two of them walked over, Daria's nerve beginning to fray as she wondered if she'd stepped in over her head.

"Well, what sort of bows would you like?" asked the centaur. The Slytherin picked a large recursive bow that Daria suspected was too big for him.

"And you?" the centaur asked sardonically.

"I'll try one of the smaller ones, please," said Daria. The centaur gave her a look that Daria interpreted as saying _"You look like you might know what you're doing,"_ then handed her a bow that the youngest colts had used.

Daria tried it. Too light, she thought. "Could I have a slightly larger one, please?" she said. "I know my limitations."

"That's surprising," said the centaur. "Not many wizards do." She handed Daria a somewhat larger one.

Daria experimentally pulled back the drawstring, then smiled. _This will do_, she thought.

"So how many arrows will you need to hit the target?" asked the centaur.

"Three," said the Slytherin as Daria said "Seven." Daria looked at him sideways and thought that he was either a member of the Archery Club or full of himself.

"Seven?" the centaur said mockingly.

"Seven," said Daria. "I'm out of practice."

"Seven it is, then," said the centaur. She said something to one of the older colts and he handed Daria one quiver while another centaur handed the Slytherin another.

Daria and the Slytherin stepped up to the firing line. The centaurs stepped back, then the female centaur said "Fire at will."

"Which one's Will?" Daria muttered sardonically. She wasn't quiet enough; a couple of the centaurs overheard her and started laughing.

Daria knocked an arrow and drew back to aim. Pulling back the bowstring was tougher than she was used to. _For a kiddy bow, this one needs a_ lot _of pulling_, she thought. She let loose her bowstring.

Her first arrow hit the top edge of the target. _Oops_. She smiled. _But I've now got the range_.

She overheard a groan from the Hogwarts crowd, then glanced at the target the Slytherin was using. Thus far he'd missed.

_Time to do the Old School Try_, she thought with a smirk, then picked up and knocked her next arrow. She drew back, loosed, and grinned when she saw where it went. She drew another arrow, knocked it, drew back and loosed it. Before too long she'd emptied her quiver.

The centaur looked at the round targets and smiled. Watching the wizards use bows had been highly amusing. The dark-haired male had chosen a bow that was far too heavy for him and had quickly made a fool of himself: only two of his arrows hit the target and she'd use his bad example to train the younglings.

The little Chestnut with the eyeglasses, on the other hand, had acquitted herself admirably. She'd managed to hit near the center with most of her shots and had actually hit the bullseye twice. While she'd never be the match of any centaur, she didn't make a fool of herself, either. She smiled at the girl after she'd handed back her borrowed bow and quiver.

"Good job. You show promise," she said. "What is your name?"

Daria hoped she knew a little centaur etiquette. "Daria," she said. "Daughter of Helen. You can call me Texas if you want."

-(((O-O)))-

Cuthbert stopped by the Ravenclaw table at lunch next day. "Daria, I heard from my Dad," he said. "He said that we'd love to invite you to stay with us this Christmas but we'll be visiting my uncle's house near Birmingham. We'll be there until the 29th. He wrote you a note." He handed Daria a sealed envelope.

Daria smiled at Cuthbert and thanked him, opening the letter when she had a spare moment.

"_Dear Daria,_

"_How are you doing? Cuthbert told me about some of your adventures at school and it sounds like you're both learning new stuff. He's told me that you've made a new circle of friends and are both keeping busy._

"_I have gotten e-mails from your Mum and your Da. They seem to be doing well, as are your sisters, and they all miss you. I've relayed a few of the stories I've heard from Cuthbert._

"_Cuthbert told me about your friend Laura. I'm sorry for your loss. I only met her the one time and it's painful when a talented, remarkable woman passes on so early._

"_Cuthbert told me about your predicament concerning the upcoming holidays. I am sorry to say that we won't be of much help: we are following long-made plans to visit my brother's near Birmingham. I've been warned that he'll not only be entertaining us, but also my sister's brood and there will barely be enough room for us, let alone any additional guests._

"_Perhaps you can visit during the Easter holidays? I've brought up the matter with Camilla. She's agreeable. She hopes you're doing well and sends you her best, by the way._

"_I'm sorry that we can't be of any help._

"_Our best to you and to your family._

"_Fondly if apologetically,_

"_Edgar Fink-Nottle._

Daria folded Mr. Fink-Nottle's letter back up and sighed. _Looks like I'll be spending my Christmas holidays here in the Castle_, she thought.

-(((O-O)))—

"So Daria, where are you going to be spending your Christmas holiday?" Tabitha Rolle asked her after potions class. Tabitha had a better sense of just how far from home Daria was than did most of her fellow fledglings.

"I don't know yet," said Daria. "If I don't get an answer soon, I'll be telling Professor McGonagall that I'll be staying over for Christmas holidays."

-(((O-O)))—

A couple of days later Daria was buttonholed by Anahita Waring.

"Daria," she said. "Are you staying in the Castle for the holidays or staying with someone?"

"It looks like the Castle," said Daria.

"How would you like to stay with us over the holidays?" said Anahita. "I've talked with my Da and and my Mum would be delighted to have you come and stay with us."

-(((O-O)))—

Author's notes

North American football, not soccer

International football. However snobbish Pureblood wizards and witches might feel about Muggle sports, I believe that houses like Hufflepuff and Gryffindor would have a much more relaxed attitude.


	39. December at Hogwarts

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. December at Hogwarts

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither property. I am writing for my own amusement and it is not my intention to profit from this work of fiction.

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl*Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl

Daria's feat on the archery range briefly made her a center of attention, something Daria preferred to avoid. The story of the little Ravenclaw witch who'd accepted the centaurs' challenge and hit the targets began to make its rounds around the school even before Monday's dinner. The reaction was mixed but mostly positive, even in her own house. Simone Willoughby used her prefect's status to ask her where she'd learn to shoot. Daria told her the truth: at a day camp back in Highland a couple of years before. Certainly not in DADA class.

Shortly afterwards she was pounced on by a couple of older Hufflepuffs. The first was an older girl Daria now knew was named Tonks, who congratulated her on her good shooting. The other was Liam Coggins, the head of the school archery club, asked her why she hadn't joined. Daria told him the truth: because Archery Club met when she had classes and she couldn't get away for them.

To her embarrassment, her fame spread to her Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Professor McCrae gave her a chance to blush when he announced her feat in class. "Weel, it seems like Miss Morgendorffer has made a name for herself with the centaurs," he said with a grin. "She's a dab hand wi' a bow."

He looked at her blushing. "You'll no be planning to use your archery against dark wizards, now?" he said.

"No, sir," said Daria. "I hope to learn the proper jinxes and counter-spells should I ever find myself in those situations. But I'm still only a First-Year."

"A good attitude," Professor McCrae said with approval.

Daria got some Barksdale feedback after class. As she expected, it was far less positive. "So you're playing with toy bows and arrows," Livia Barksdale said cattily.

"People who know me know that I've been known to dabble," Daria replied. _So what's your game, Cousin Livia_, she thought. _I don't think that you've joined the Archery Club._

"You know that bows and arrows aren't much good against hexes and curses," said Livia.

"Of course I know," Daria replied. "On the other hand, we're both First-years and dead meat if we're facing any dark wizards outside or even older kids inside." Livia attempted to interrupt, but Daria plowed on. "It's nice to have alternatives to throwing rocks and trying to run away."

"Maybe you'd know good shield-charms if you were really a witch," Livia replied. She and her cousin laughed.

Daria glared at her. _Later, honey_, Daria thought, then thought of a certain word that started with B. 

-(((O-O)))- 

It wasn't until Potions class that Daria learned that Professor Snape was wasn't impressed with her archery skills either, as he demonstrated after accepting and grading her potion samples.

"Miss Morgendorffer," he said.

"Sir?" said Daria.

"I do not appreciate you manhandling my students," said Professor Snape.

Daria sorted through her memories to recall who she was supposed to have manhandled then remembered that Slytherin idiot who was drifting too close to the targets.

"Sir, I prefer not to manhandle older boys," she said, "but he was too close to the targets and he didn't have the sense to back away."

"Some people need to learn through experience," said Professor Snape.

"Sir, begging your pardon," said Daria, "but it helps to survive the experience to learn from it. He was already too close."

Professor Snape studied her for a moment, trying to decide if she was being excessively sarcastic. After a moment, the edges of his lips went up slightly and he said. "True enough. One point for Ravenclaw."

Daria hoped her notoriety would end. It did: archery wasn't Quidditch, and her brief hour of fame ended, much to her relief. 

-(((O-O)))— 

Daria wrote a letter to her parents telling them about her situation with Christmas break and about the Warings' invitation to spend her Christmas holiday with them. She sent it off quickly: even with the hybrid letter-forwarding system she and her parents used, turn-around time between Hogwarts and Highland could be just over two weeks, and she wanted her permission to arrive before she had to get on the train. She hoped that her parents would send off a response in time.

In the meantime, she sat down and wrote a letter to Anahita's parents introducing herself. She thanked them for their offer, then said that she would be delighted to visit. She told them that she'd met Anahita at Hogwarts, that she liked her, and considered her to be a friend. She then told them that she was born in Austin, Texas shortly after her mother had graduated from law school, that she had been raised in Texas, and that so far as she knew, she came from a non-magical background. She also told them that she missed being able to speak with her parents and hoped they had a telephone or knew of a public phone nearby. She ended her letter by saying that she looked forward to meeting them. 

-(((O-O)))— 

A week later, Daria was walking up to the Castle. She'd had a class with Megan Leeward and a couple of her friends and the girls had chosen to walk back to the main entrance while catching up with each other. It had snowed again, although the snow in open areas had melted back to the shade. Even so, it was still picturesque but dangerous; Daria had already learned that partially-melted ice and melt-water was particularly slippery.

As they got closer to the entrance, both girls saw that they were walking along a trail littered with pine needles and small branches. By the time they reached the entrance, they saw that the great doors were blocked by a huge fir tree that someone, probably Hagrid, had dragged uphill and was presumably towing into the Great Hall. Daria and the other girls stopped short, waiting for it to move. The tree shook, moved a couple of inches, then stopped.

"I think we might have to use another entrance," said Daria.

"Do you think he needs any help?" asked Megan.

"We ought to," said another Hufflepuff.

Daria was about to say that she was afraid of getting lost in the branches, then it struck her: _You're a witch, Morgendorffer, you don't_ have _to pick up the tree_. She drew her wand.

"Daria, you know we aren't supposed to use magic outside of class," said one of the other Hufflepuff girls.

"You're right," said Daria. "You didn't see this. This isn't happening. "

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," she said. Pointing her wand at the tree. The tree rose slightly, Hagrid or somebody gave it another tug, and the tree slid through the door.

"Daria, you're shameless," said Megan.

"I know," said Daria. The girls laughed, then followed the trail of pine needles into the Castle. 

-(((O-O)))— 

The tree was decorated by dinner. So were a couple of other, slightly smaller ones that Hagrid had dragged in later. Daria got to watch some of it while writing an essay for DADA class and had watched with amusement as Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick made decorations and used magic to set them in place. All three fir trees were taller than any tree Daria had ever seen back in Highland, even the big ones the Catholics set up outside Our Lady of Guadalupe.

The Ravenclaw first-years were impressed, even Daria. But as the girls, Anahita asked the question that had been bothering Daria: "Daria, have you heard from your parents yet?"

-(((O-O)))—

The response came the next morning at breakfast, when a postal owl landed on the Ravenclaw table then hopped over to where Daria was sitting.

Daria recognized the envelope immediately. It was one of the ones from the mail-forwarding service she liked to use when she wrote home. She paid the owl, then offered it a piece of bacon. The owl chirped at her, then flew away.

She then set about opening first the outer envelope, which was charmed against water, then the inner one. She pulled out the letter and began reading it.

"Anahita, my parents wrote back," she said. "They said yes." 

-(((O-O)))— 

"So Miss Morgendorffer, have you finally decided where you're going to spend your Christmas holidays?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, Ma'am," said Daria. "My parents gave me permission to stay with Anahita's family."

"That would be Mordred's and Anthea's family, wouldn't it?" said Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, Ma'am," said Daria.

"A good family," said Professor McGonagall. "They're both good people. I taught both of them."

_That's a good endorsement_, Daria thought.

-(((O-O)))— 

Daria soon learned that the weeks before Christmas were a magical time at Hogwarts. The Great Hall had no less than three Christmas Trees, lit in the evening by magical lights that took the place of the electric lights Daria's family was used to. There were also decorations on the High Table where the faculty sat and small wreaths on the students' tables. Ravenclaw had its own tree and other decorations.

Nor were the effects visual. Hogwarts had a choral society, who gave special Christmas performances several evenings before dinner. Listening to them, she had a brief vision of an older version of herself standing next to a taller boy singing carols in some No-Maj setting. Not likely, she thought, and shook her head.

Nor were they the only singers. Daria learned to her amusement that the Far Friar had taken it upon himself to organize a group of ghosts to sing old hymns, some of which Daria found quite moving.

More classes, essay assignments due after their return to Hogwarts in January, a couple of quizzes, and Daria found that it was the day before the start of the Christmas holidays.

Professor Flitwick called a house meeting. It was very brief, with him saying that he was pleased with the house's performance this term, that he was pleased with all of them, and that he wished them a joyful holiday.

Andrew and Simone, the house prefects, reminded them that they needed to have their luggage locked and ready to go by 9:30 AM. The Hogwarts Express would leave at 11:00 AM. Andrew had a wizarding wireless and told them that the weather for the next day was likely to be snowy.


	40. South For Christmas

Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl. Chapter South for Christmas!

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. I own neither franchise and neither expect nor deserve any financial gain for this work of fiction.

I do appreciate positive reviews.

_Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl* Daria Ravenclaw: The Year of the Owl_

Daria and the other First-year Ravenclaw girls in her dorm were out of the tower and waiting to catch the carriages for the Hogsmeade station by 9:30. Daria had a nervous moment when she thought that she hadn't packed her passport, credit cards, and other IDs, but after checking her purse, she realized that she hadn't. The girls had to wait a bit for their carriages, but they were on the train less than an hour later. The trip to Hogsmeade station was like something out of some nineteenth century romance, howbeit with certain differences: Daria could see the Thestrals pulling the sleighs across the lake even if the other girls couldn't. Once they got to the train, Daria, Anahita, Dahlia, Violet, Majda and Cynthia found a compartment and claimed it. With Dahlia's help, Daria put her smaller bag onto the overhead luggage rack.

"Ready to go?" asked Anahita.

"Not quite yet," said Daria, standing up and taking her camera out of its case. _I should have taken more pictures this term_, she told herself reproachfully. "I'll be back. I want to go take a couple of pictures of the locomotive." She told herself that she was taking the photo for Dad and Mr. Fink-Nottle, but she secretly acknowledged to herself that she was taking them for herself. She stepped back out onto the platform and tested her footing. To her relief, the platform wasn't as dangerous and slippery as she thought it might be: someone had sprinkled sand on it.

To Daria's bemusement, she wasn't the only railway enthusiast taking pictures: so were a couple of boys. She recognized Cuthbert but didn't recognize the other one. It was hard to get a good picture of the locomotive: it was mostly shrouded in steam and the light snowfall covered most of the rest. Daria shot a few pictures and hoped that they'd work out. After she took them, she started walking back to her compartment. A leather-lunged Prefect's call of "Five minutes!" inspired Daria to step back onto the train and make her way down the carriages' corridors to her compartment instead of using the station platform. A toot of the whistle, and the Hogwarts Express began moving.

Excited, Daria?" said Anahita.

"I am," said Daria.

"Also, this is the first time I've seen this part of the train ride in daylight."

The train ambled slowly past the shoreline opposite the Castle. Cloudy and snowy it might have been, but this part was like traveling through a winter wonderland. Daria got a brief, fleeting view of Hogwarts Castle and the long lake, then the train tracks plunged into a thick forest of trees.

"Sorry," she said.

"Seriously, I'm looking forward to visiting your family," she said to Anahita, ignoring that tiny bit of apprehension. _Would they like her? Would they welcome her in? Would they kick her out if she accidentally offended them?_

"Have you ever been inside a wizarding house before?" asked Dahlia.

Daria stopped to think about it and realized that she had. "Once," she said. "I went to Mrs. Johnson's last New Year's Eve."

"I thought you took potions at that Mrs. Ocampo's house," said Violet.

"Not really," said Daria. "Our classes met in a building she had out in the back of her property. It had air-conditioning and she'd set it up as a lab and a classroom. I never actually went into her house."

"So it's just one so far," said Dahlia.

"Not counting Hagrid's cabin," said Daria.

-(((O-O)))—

Everyone in the compartment looked forward to the holidays. Most of the girls were either going home or visiting magical households. Majda was the exception: she, like Daria, was Muggle-raised. The only fly in the ointment was that they'd been assigned homework and would have to write essays while on break.

The views out the window continued to be inspiring, despite the clouds and the snow. The train rolled down an embankment paralleling a lake for several miles, cut through a short tunnel, then crossed a curved stone bridge before ducking into another stand of trees.

The train left the Highlands a couple of hours later, speeding up as it left the curves and steep grades behind it. The Trolley Lady came by with snacks: hard and soft candies, pumpkin juice and, Thank God, bottled water. Daria thought briefly about diabetics and wondered how they dealt with these circumstances. That didn't stop her from giving in to her sweet tooth and got a couple of Chocolate Frogs.. She wasn't a collector like the other kids, but she was sure that some of her contemporaries would love to see them. So would Veronica, for that matter.

She imagined the conversation she'd have when she got back to Highland.

"_So where's the chocolate frog?"_ said Veronica.

"_I ate it,"_ she'd reply.

A short time later they began to see signs of Muggle technology and the Muggle world they'd left behind back in early September: metal sheds here, a farm tractor there, several automobiles, a power line. It had stopped snowing, the snow was replaced by cold drizzle even as the snow cover began to recede, retreating into shady areas. It was still cold. Daria guessed that the temperature must be in somewhere between the mid-forties to mid-thirties.

About an hour later the train slowed down and came to a halt. It was now dusk and rapidly growing dark.

"What happened?" said Cynthia.

"I don't know," Daria replied. "I bet someone else does." Cuthbert had told her that a few of the Muggleborn and some of the Half-Bloods came from railwaymen's families, and that a couple of the school's alumni tried to recruit retired railwaymen as volunteers to keep the Express running. She wondered if any of those students knew about keeping trains moving.

She looked out the window. The train had stopped—somewhere.

"Would you guys mind if I opened a window?" said Daria.

"Make it quick," said Violet. "It's freezing out there."

Daria opened the window and quickly looked in both directions. She wasn't the only person who'd done it; so had a couple of other girls and guys.

"Brrr!" said Violet. "It's freezing!" Daria closed the window.

"Now what did you see?" said Violet.

"We seem to be near some small Muggle town about a quarter-mile from some station or other," said Daria.

"A big one?" said Violet.

Daria was about to say no when the girls' speculations were interrupted by a school prefect walking up and down the corridors and shouting "Everyone is to stay on-board! No one is allowed to get off the train! Everyone is to stay on-board!"

The train remained stationary. Daria hoped that whatever the problem was, it was something minor. She did not want to go looking for a floo or a loo in the cold and dark in some British equivalent of Tuna, Texas.

"So what do we do?" said Dahlia.

"Let's play Snap," said Violet. "Who's in?"

The girls had just finished playing a game when the locomotive blew its whistle and the train began moving again. The train rolled past a small station with a station name and a sign advertising the something and something Valley Tourist Railway. Daria made a note to herself to ask Mr. Fink-Nottle what line the station was on.

"It looks like they fixed whatever it was," said Violet.

"So it does," said Majda.

Violet pushed up her sleeve and looked at her wrist-watch.

"We'll be late, but only by thirty minutes," she said.

_Don't tempt Murphy_, Daria thought but didn't say. She made the sign to ward off the Evil Eye, which she'd learned from other kids was supposed to ward off Murphy, too, although she doubted its effectiveness.

There were no further incidents. The sun had set and the twilight was fast fading into darkness. One by one, the girls slowly dozed off.

She was awakened by prefects walking up and down the train saying "King's Cross station in fifteen minutes! King's Cross in fifteen minutes! Gather up your things and be prepared to leave the train!"

The girls burst into a flurry of activity, putting things they'd taken out for the ride down to London back in their suitcases and carry-on bags. Daria tried to remember where her suitcase was, then remembered that she'd handed it to a porter when she got on. She'd have to look for it when she got off.

Daria looked out the window. They must be approaching King's Cross station: Daria could see other train tracks and newer Muggle railway consists going past them on other tracks. She wondered how the Wizards managed to keep the Hogwarts Express from colliding with one of the other trains. Charms? Or did the Wizards have people on the signaling staff quietly letting the Express slip through without notice? Dara suspected that it was the latter. Whatever the case, someone did a masterful job. The Express rolled under the overhead canopy that covered the tracks and station platform, then came to a stop.

They had arrived in London.

-(((O-O)))—

The public-address system came on again as the Hogwarts Express halted beside the station platform. "The Train has arrived at King's Cross Station. The Train has arrived at King's Cross Station. Gather up your things and prepare to debark at the station! Do not leave anything behind!"

Daria and the other girls in her compartment began putting on outer clothes and gathering up their things. Nobody had pets yet: Violet was thinking about buying an owl but her parents hadn't given her permission. Daria pursed her lips together: owl cages would certainly make their compartment seem more crowded.

Daria looked out the window. She could see the crowd of expectant parents gathered to welcome their children home from school. The carriage doors opened and her fellow students began to get off the train.

"Let's wait a little bit," said Violet. "We won't get so battered if the crowd thins out first." The girls waited a few minutes as compartments emptied and students made their way through the corridor to the doors in the vestibules.

"Now go," said Violet. Majda, the girl closest to the compartment's interior windows, opened the door. The girls picked up their carry-on luggage and started making their way to the platform. "And if I don't see you before you pop away, have a good holiday!" said Violet. "Merry Christmas!"

"You, too! Merry Christmas!" the other girls echoed.

Despite the fact that there wasn't any snow on the ground here, Daria could tell that it was definitely winter. It was already chilly in the compartment and even colder on the platform. Not freezing, but definitely uncomfortable. Daria stayed close to Anahita; the girls would be looking for their luggage on the platform as well as for their parents.

The crowd of parents and returning students had begun to thin out as Daria followed Anahita onto the platform. Anahita started scanning the faces of the adults on the platform and upon spotting Mr. Waring, yelled "Dad!", "Mum!"

Anahita dashed towards the swarthy man wearing the fur har standing next to a tall, light-skinned woman wearing a wizarding-style overcoat. "Anahita!" said Mr. Waring. "My baby!" said a woman Daria recognized as Mrs. Waring from Anahita's photographs. Daria hung back, letting the Warings exchange hugs.

"Ah! And Daria!" said Mr. Waring. "Good to see you again! I'm glad you could join us this holiday!"

"Thank you for the invitation, sir," said Daria. "I was afraid that I was going to be rattling around the Castle all by myself until Spring Term started." She thought about telling them about the Fink-Nottles but decided that they didn't need to know. Besides, it looked like the Fink-Nottles might let her visit them during the Easter break.

"So now that we're all gathered together, shall we do something about your luggage?" said Mr. Warning.

"Oh, yes," said Anahita.

Together, they walked the platform in search of the girls' luggage. The crowd had already thinned considerably and it didn't take long for them to find Daria's and Anahita's suitcases. The Warings gathered Daria's and Anahita's luggage and placed them on a luggage trolley.

"Next stop, the Floo!" said Mr. Waring.

"Uh, Mister Waring," said Daria. "Could we stop by a pay phone before we floo away? I'd like to call my parents and tell them I'm all right. I haven't spoken to either one of them since September 1st."

"Are you sure you want to call them right now?" said Mr. Waring. "There's a time-difference, you know. I don't think that your Dad and Mum would appreciate being called half past three in the morning."

"Actually it would be half past three in the afternoon," said Daria. "It's earlier in Texas."

"Is it really?" said Mr. Waring. He looked thoughtful, then said "You're right. I'll have to remember that."

"Anthea?" he said, turning to Mrs. Waring.

"I think we can spare the time," said Mrs. Waring.

"To the phones, then!" said Mr. Waring, as if they were about to set off on some great adventure. Mrs. Waring made a look of fond amusement.

Together, Daria and the Warings stepped through the barrier and emerged into a crowd of Muggles that had just detrained from a train on Track Nine.

"Now where do you think that the pay phones would be, Daria?" asked Mr. Waring. "I haven't the foggiest."

"Up past the head end," said Daria. "Thataway," she added, pointing. "I guess we follow the flow."

Together, the Waring family and their guest followed the crowd of weary Muggle travelers and lingering wizarding families past the track bumpers and the parked trainsets.

Mr. Waring watched with amusement as the American practically pounced on a uniformed Muggle and got him to divulge the location of the pay telephones. The Muggle pointed in a certain direction, told her good luck, then wished her a Merry Christmas.

The American girl thanked him, and then started walking towards the station concourse. The Warings followed just behind her. Mrs. Waring gave him a look. He shrugged. "She looks like she knows what she's doing," he said.

A little later, Daria turned around and said "I guess those are them over there."

Mr. Waring smiled. He'd already noted that the American girl tended to speak correct, if American-accented English and rarely let her local patois come out. The girl must be more stressed than she let on.

The phones were a bank of what looked like yellow plastic spheres set on metal posts about three feet off the ground. One of their sides had been partially hollowed out to house the telephone apparatus itself to allow what Mr. Waring thought was a less-than-satisfactory amount of privacy. The girl dug into her wallet and extracted a small spiral notepad and a plastic card, then inserted a couple of Muggle coins into a coin slot on the apparatus.

A short time later, then girl spoke to some person on the telephone and said that she'd like to make an international telephone call to the United States, then rattled off a couple of series of numbers, one of which Mr. Waring recognized as a telephone number, then another number that must have been printed on the plastic card she was holding. She finally gave a month and a date at least two years ahead of the present, then put her hand over the lower part of the telephone receiver and muttered "About damn time."

The girl waited, then spoke.

"Hello, Lucy Ann, this is Daria. Is my Mom available?" she said.

"Yes, it's me," she said. "I'm calling from London."

This Lucy Ann must have said something, because Daria said "OK, I'll wait."

"Hi, Mom!" she said.

"Yes, it's me," she said.

"No, I'm at the train station in London" said Daria. "I thought I ought to give you all a call to let you know that I'm OK."

"I thought I'd better call you now. The Warings are rugged individualists and I don't think they have a phone," she continued. "I thought I'd check in before I move on."

"I had a great time," she said. Mr. Waring thought she sounded surprised to admit it. "It's an old and sometimes creaky castle, but it's a lot more fun than Pa Ferguson Elementary, and I like some of my teachers. I learned a lot "

"Yes, I also made some new friends. I particularly like the girls in my dorm room. I particularly like Dahlia and Anahita but all my roommates are cool."

"I'm glad to take a break. I'm grateful to the Warings for inviting me over to their house for the Christmas holidays. I like the castle, but I really appreciate the chance to get away from school for a few days."

"How's Dad, Quinn, and Ronnie?" said Daria. Mr. Waring had heard that Daria had two sisters.

"He has?" said Daria. "Good for him! I hope he enjoys it." She laughed. "Maybe we won't have to eat so many TV dinners."

"Good for Quinn, I'm glad she's enjoying it." Said Daria.

"I'm not surprised anymore," said Daria. "I'm beginning to think that June Bug is a maniac."

"Oh, they're here," said Daria.

"Well, could you give Dad, Quinn, and Ronnie my love and tell them that I miss them and hope that they're doing OK?" said Daria.

"OK," she said.

Daria turned to Mr. Waring and extended the telephone receiver. "It's my Mom," she said. "She wants to talk to you."

Mordred took the receiver from Daria and said "Hello? This is Mordred Waring. Are you Madam Morgendorffer?"

"A pleasure to speak with you, Madam," he said.

"Yes, we agreed to have your daughter over for the holidays," he said. "We're looking forward to her company."

"My daughter says that your daughter is an interesting person," he said. "Anahita's also a good judge of character."

"I do this and that. I am currently working in real estate," said Mr. Waring.

"I've heard that you're a lawyer," said Mr. Waring. "Extraordinary!"

"Are you a solicitor or more of a barrister?" said Mr. Waring.

"I see! A trial lawyer!" said Mr. Waring.

"And Mr. Morgendorffer, what does he do?" he said.

"Well, things need to be distributed and the distribution needs to be managed," he said. "Is he a manager just for Texas or does he do the whole country?"

"I see," said Mr. Waring. "Just for West Texas."

"Your pardon, Madam. I didn't know that it was so big," he said apologetically.

"And of your other daughters, are they?" he said.

"Ah. I see," he said.

"We don't have a telephone, but there is one within walking distance and we can floo out in an emergency," he said.

"All right," he said. "Here is my wife Anthea." He handed the telephone to Mrs. Waring.

"Hello, Mrs. Morgendorffer?" said Anthea.

"A pleasure to speak with you," said Anthea.

"I'm looking forward to hosting your daughter," said Anthea.

"I won't ask you what you and your husband do for a living," said Anthea. "I overheard Mordred's half of your conversation."

"So you are an attorney? I'm impressed."

"I'm an amateur botanist," said Anthea. "It's a passion of mine. I'm working on breeding useful plants."

"I wouldn't mind making some galleons from my research," she added. "We'll see if they work out."

"Anahita's not our only child; she has a younger sister named Dana. Mordred and I have an older nephew who recently graduated," she said.

"You have how many?"

"Three?" said Anthea. "I'm sure they're all lovely."

"Anyhow, we're looking forward to a happy holiday and will head home shortly. Our best to you, Mr. Morgendorffer, and your other daughters," said Anthea.

"Merry Christmas and good-bye." Anthea hung up the receiver.

"Interesting woman," she said. "Let's be off now."

Author's Notes

My outside interest as a railway enthusiast caused me to slightly modify the canon route of the Hogwarts Express in this chapter. Supposedly the Express changed from its original routing sometime in the late 1960's to early 1970's, taking advantage of British Railway's abandonments of certain lines to cut the length of time Hogwarts students spend aboard the train.

The idea of the Hogwarts Express now dipping into and out of the Muggle world is meant as a gift to other Harry Potter friends and family, particularly those model railway enthusiasts who don't have the space or inclination to allow either Hogwarts Castle or King's Cross station to overwhelm their set-ups.


End file.
